The Bourne Outcome
by StBridgit
Summary: Byer intends to clean up, but he has to get both Jason Bourne and Aaron Cross to do it. Do they always work alone? Jason returns to Nicky in the face of the newest threat and gets the surprise of his life. Will Aaron & Jason find a way out before the net closes? Jason/Nicky, Aaron/Marta.
1. Chapter 1

*Disclaimer: I own nothing, this is purely for fun and I hope you enjoy it.*

Chapter 1

-Rafz, Switzerland-

She bicycled briskly through the village, weaving past a smattering of pedestrians and exchanging waves with a few people she recognized. The waves bothered him immensely—it meant she had been here long enough to make friends. The muscle in his temple ticked; _she's gotten lazy_. Jason was disappointed in her. He followed her smoothly in the Mini, downshifting as he cruised down a hill. He'd ditch the car if she continued into the countryside—he was intent on teaching her a lesson about the price of laziness. Enough time had passed that the irony of using a Mini to hunt down a female companion was not lost on him, but the worn down edge of sorrows from the past pissed him off. He channeled it and parked, then followed her on foot.

Nicky heard the car turn off on the lane to the suburb. Her house was close but not too close. She needed room and privacy. Living here was one of many compromises she'd been forced to make over the last eighteen months—not secure enough but better than the housing tract. She cycled into the courtyard and checked the lock and the obvious tells by the door—all clear. Some habits were too important to relinquish. She flipped on lights as she went through the house, then put on the kettle for tea. _Biscuits_, she thought to herself, and retrieved the box of Bahlsen she had picked up from the shopping bag. She felt rather than heard the sudden movement and whirled around, her Luger out of the bag and in hand. He knocked it out of her hand before she had a chance to sight it and put his hand over her mouth.

"You're dead, Nicky," he whispered in her ear before he let her go and stepped back a pace, but kept his hand on her waist in case she reacted again to his presence.

"Why are you here, Jason?" she asked wearily, ignoring his hand at her waist and turning to get another cup down for tea.

"What the hell are you doing, waving at people in town and ignoring the sound of a car turning off and stopping? And what in the hell are you doing MAKING TEA when you should have been running?" he began to yell now, grabbing her shoulders and shaking her. "Jesus Nicky, did you learn nothing from me at all?"

"What do you want Jason?" she yelled back in his face, then deliberately grabbed the kettle of boiling water and shook it with a slosh toward him so he'd hopefully give her some space. "As if I didn't know it was you the second the car turned off! Anyone else would have tried to shoot me as I rode along! Don't give me your shit, Bourne," she warned with a dangerous flash in her stormy eyes.

"We don't have time for tea," he replied, those gorgeous blue eyes focused. "We need to leave. Now."

"Wait, just wait. Who is coming, Bourne?" Nicky pulled her arm away roughly and backed out of the kitchen away from him. "You need to tell me what is going on. Unless someone is coming through that door, in which case I need that Luger," she said, pointing to her gun on the counter next to him.

"If they are, we'll deal with it. But you're going to pack, now. We are gone in five minutes." Jason scanned the living room, noting the pictures on the wall. "God Nicky, how long have you been here?" he said, walking toward a picture on the far wall, half-hidden by a lamp. Nicky brushed past him rudely and pulled his arm.

"You can help me pack," she said when he halted momentarily and looked over at her. She glanced at the clock and added, "That is, if you want to make your deadline. Four minutes left." Jason saw a brief flicker of something in her eyes behind the anger, but her posture was irritated and she gave nothing away.

"I don't think you want me packing your panties." He lifted one eyebrow at her cool shrug.

"No, but you can certainly pack a toothbrush. Come on Bourne," she started walking away, but her gait was hiccupped momentarily for a split second until he smoothly followed her upstairs. _What are you doing, Nicky?_

She glanced back at him as she took the stairs two at a time. "How's the memory loss?" He looked exactly the same. Whatever had happened to him in New York, his body had healed itself and his self-discipline had kept him fit.

"Still there," he replied grimly. "It's coming back in bits and pieces."

She was throwing clothes into a backpack now. "Toiletries are in the cabinet," she called out, tidying the room while he was in the cubicle that masqueraded as the bathroom.

"This all you want?" he asked, coming out quickly with a toothbrush, shampoo, and deodorant in hand.

"Grab the razor for me, please," she said, zipping up the main compartment of the bag. It was a backpacker's bag, like you'd see any kid carrying in countless hostels all over Europe. It had been a splurge at the time because it was waterproof, but it was well worth it.

Jason reached around her and tucked the items into the front of the pack. "Is that it?" His face turned toward hers and she could feel his breath on her cheek. She looked at him and saw it then. He knew something.

"Nicky?" he said, his eyes clear and open.

"Jason, it's time to go," she said softly. Her face was a mask, giving nothing away.

"Ok," he said slowly, "let's go." They jogged down the stairs and Nicky glanced at the biscuits on the kitchen table.

"Where to?" she asked with forced cheerfulness to her tone, as she looked at the clock again.

"We're going back to the car. But first, I want to see something." He veered off into the living room and Nicky panicked. He was heading for the picture on the wall. _Jesus_, she thought to herself, and began to speak, but then they both heard it. A car.

"Get down," he ordered her, flicking aside the curtain to size up the car that was trundling down the dirt road in a cloud of dust.

"Jason," she called as he made his way toward the door and got out his gun. "Jason!"

The car lurched to a stop outside the courtyard and a flurry of activity and slamming car door was heard.

"Jason, let me get the door, please Jason, let me get the door," Nicky said urgently, pulling on his arm. He turned to look at her and for the first time he saw the panic in her eyes. This was important to her…he ran through the scenarios. A lover? A husband? Is that why she had been here for so long?

"Jason! Please! Get away from the door!" she was actually pushing him now, which a part of him found amusing. Then she stomped on his instep as footsteps hurried across the courtyard and he let her push him out of the way in the split second of surprise and open the door.

"Mutti! Ratet mal, was ich in der Schule heute gemacht?"

Jason was frozen in place as a little boy barreled through the door and into Nicky's arms. She picked him up in a big hug and stood up. Time slowed down to a nanosecond crawl. Before she turned he met the boy's blue eyed gaze. Midblue, flecked with grey. His. Nicky's eyes were filled with tears when she turned to face him.

Dimly he heard the boy say, "Wer ist der mann, Mutti?"

"Jesus, Nicky." He automatically clicked the safety back on, shoved the gun back into his pocket and strode back into the living room, knocking over the lamp. Nicky. Short, dark hair. Holding a toddler in her arms. A toddler…his mind did the math. _Paris._

"Go put your things away sweetie, then we will have some tea and biscuits and I will introduce our guest, okay?" he heard her say and then turned around as she came into the room. She was hugging herself, as if she needed that bit of comfort from another pair of arms.

"Is he mine?" he demanded, walking over and grabbing her. "Is he mine, Nicky?"

"Yes," she whispered. "Yes, he's our son." The tears spilled over, hot and fresh, and Jason let her go, stunned. Then he pulled her into his arms and let her cry a few more tears. He asked quietly, "Why didn't you tell me?"

Even as he asked, he knew the answer. Because he was unstable. Because he had lost his memory, he was wanted by the CIA most of the time, and because he was a trained assassin. His mind replayed all of their time together since his amnesia had started. He'd fought their boss and stared straight through her in Paris. He'd kidnapped her and held a gun to her head in Berlin. And she'd watched him kill Desh with his bare hands in Tangier.

"Mutti?"

Nicky pulled herself together and Jason let her go. They both turned toward the door where their son was watching them with curious eyes.

"I'm sorry, where are my manners? Jason, let me introduce you to my son, David," she glanced at his face and felt her heart lurch at the wrench of pain and pleasure she saw in his eyes. "David, this is my friend, Jason."

Jason got down on one knee and looked carefully, drinking in the details of his _son_. Tousled brown hair, pert nose, intelligent eyes surveyed him with curiosity and open friendliness. "Pleased to meet you, David." He held out his hand, which the boy shook once solemnly.

"Are you American?" he asked in perfect English. "We don't have many Americans here, but you sound like the cartoons on TV."

"Ja, ich bin. Welche Art von Karikaturen mögen Sie?"

"I like the Cat in the Hat, and Bob the Builder. Why are you here?" Jason blinked and grinned in spite of the circumstances, but it flashed quickly and was gone as he made eye contact with Nicky.

"David, do you have a backpack that you have ready for a trip? Maybe something your mom has you keep around in case you have to go somewhere in a hurry?"

"Ja, it's in my closet…" David stopped and frowned, "But I want my snack!"

"David, go get your pack quickly, we will have a snack on the way."  
He turned to stare accusingly at his mother. "You never let me eat in the car!"  
Jason stood up quickly and went back to check the windows. His mind was flipping through scenarios again, this time with more agitation than he'd like. He couldn't quit circling back to that little presence with his eyes and his mom's nose. _Shit_.

Nicky pushed David up the stairs, saying, "I'll break the rules today, honey. Just go get your pack, you can have snack in the car." She turned around and wordlessly grabbed the sleeve of biscuits and her keys. She made eye contact with Jason again and neither of them said a word.

"Is there anyone else?" Jason asked, relieved when she shook her head.

"Let's go," he said with deadly calm as David came bounding down the stairs. He didn't even ask if there was anyone else who could take their son. If there were, she wouldn't be here with him. _This changes everything_. There wasn't time to calculate all the new variables. He had to get them safe and then he could work through the factors.

Nicky touched him lightly on the arm as she headed for the back door.

"Where is your car?" Jason knew she had a car, but it was not parked outside.

"I sometimes keep it in the Zenhauserns' barn—my landlords," she explained quickly. "I don't like being predictably at home with the car parked outside…hence the bike."

"Where?" Jason scanned the trees and grabbed her arm. "Wait."

"David! You forgot Floyd," Nicky called quickly, knowing that the favorite stuffy would bring her son to a stop before he darted past them.

"Danke Mutti, Ich werde ihn jetzt holen!" he scampered back inside, but was stopped by Jason's arm.

"Warten Sie, David, deine Mutter wird ihn bei Ihnen melden, okay?" He nodded toward the woods to Nicky, asked quickly, "Where are the other guns, Nicky?" Her eyes met his immediately while David tugged on her hand. "In the gun safe, there. Switzerland," she offered as a one word explanation, then hustled David upstairs.

Jason strode over to the safe and removed the assault rifle and ammunition. Quickly he checked the action of the rifle and chambered a round.

He didn't have long to wait. A group of four field officers broke cover and were moving toward the house. These were not his immediate concern. He scanned the woods again and spotted it—a pair of agents scrambling toward the dip in the meadow. Another one could be sniping from the trees, maybe two. The two looked like a grab team, which was good…it meant they were after Nicky and not him. If they had been watching her, however, they'd know about the boy. Not good. From the numbers they were using, he was betting they had just found her. He'd find out.

T-minus one minute or less. He went into the kitchen and turned on a burner with the large cast iron skillet on it, added a knob of butter. Then he blended into the shadows of the living room to wait. He knew Nicky would be hiding upstairs, maybe checking a window, maybe not. Then he heard the bath turn on. _Good girl_. He hoped she could keep David quiet, but the noise mask should help both ways.

The door opened and the first two came through. He waited. The butter was sizzling now, and as one agent moved past him he went for him. The semiautomatic handgun hit the floor and his partner rushed in while Jason broke his arm and flipped the first man right toward him. The impact from his body threw his gun arm down to the left where the bullet ricocheted off the floor. Jason shot him once in the wrist, gun problem solved, then deflected the punch he threw with his left and disabled him swiftly with a well-placed kick and punch.

The other two had come in swiftly in the hubbub and Jason moved through the passthrough masquerading as a hallway, their bullets missing their target. The first guy through the kitchen door got burning hot butter in his face along with the frying pan, and he crumpled like a dry leaf. The second agent tried to aim, but Jason was prepared and opened a cabinet door with mirrored pots in his line of fire, then got him with a slightly off-balance six inch paring knife just below his left clavicle and a quick disarming with a nicely balanced Wüsthof. The resulting tussle lasted less than four seconds, and the guy was out cold on the floor.

"Nicky, time to go!" he shouted up the stairs. She came down at lightning speed, David in her arms and the pack on her back. They exchanged a glance over the men dropped around the house, as she did her best to keep David's head tucked down into her shoulder and neck.

"There are more outside. I want you to count to 200, then take the path toward the suburbs out front. There's a team for sure in the meadow and probably two more in the trees. I'm going to take care of that and I'll catch you up. Got it?"

She nodded. Jason touched the boy on his arm, "David, helfen bis 200 zählt, bitte." The boy nodded.

He took off at a loping run, certain the meadow team was circling around after the sound of shots popping off. They were going for the back door and that meant he had to be in the thinning shrubs. He'd deal with the woods next. Sure enough, they broke cover right at the edge of the thinning shrubs, one of them making for the concealing cover closer to the house and the other one covering. He was ready with the rifle, and dropped the second agent without qualm. The first predictably sped up, and Jason was waiting three seconds later with the Wüsthof, which found a home between the sixth and seventh ribs, ensuring the man was very down with a collapsed lung and possibly lacerated liver. Also predictably, the rifle shot to the meadow agent had caused the sniper to move slightly in his position. One in the trees, about a quarter mile out from the house. He went back through the house and out through the courtyard, where Nicky was about to break cover with David.

"Start the car and start driving toward the houses." She nodded and went. He jogged in the opposite direction along the road, making use of the coppice of beech for cover. A shot zinged into the bark behind him, but he was into the forest now and had better cover. Definitely two. He circled far enough behind to catch the second, assessing the landscape to figure out where he would be. The wind picked up and he noticed a stand of brush not moving quite the same as the rest. Bingo. He dropped to his belly and started working in in waves, timing his movements with the increasing tempo of the wind. A few drops of rain meant an autumn storm was blowing in. Whatever conversation had occurred between the snipers, they had obviously not heard from their colleagues, and the second one was trying to make a move. Retrenchment and reconnaissance might be the new goal, but he was damned if they were going to see anything. This was a lucky break, as it meant all Jason had to do was get in line next to him, then get close enough to inject him with the syringe he palmed off the knifed agent. Sniper one down without a fuss. The tree agent was going to require a bit more creativity. He studied the young aspens and decided that Mother Nature knows best. The rain had started in earnest and covered the noise of his quick job with the pocket chain saw on a young tree and the next gust of wind saw the tree sniper confronting multiple limbs of a young tree instead of one Jason Bourne. He fell out and one blow to the head finished it.

Now Jason wanted information. He checked the guy in the meadow—rifle shot through the abdomen, tricky but survivable. The guy had passed out from pain, his radio dangled from his ear. A quick pass through the house verified that none of them were conscious enough to pose a threat, although one guy had required one quick reintroduction to the butt of the Ruger. He tried not to kill field agents, they were just not prepared to deal with an asset. Now he turned his attention to the informant, Mr. Collapsed Lung. He was gasping for breath and was probably certain he was going to die, the comm link at his throat as worthless to him as the phone in the house.

"I'm going to ask you some questions, and you're going to shake your head yes or no. You're going to do that for me or I'm going to send this hollow point right through your heart. Are we clear?" The man nodded his head, and Jason continued. "Now, I know you know who I am, but I'm betting you weren't expecting to see me here, were you?" He shook his head, then gasped at the pain this caused in his lung.

"I'll try to make them 'yes' questions…I know that's got to hurt. Are you from the agency?" Nodding.

"Were you sent to capture Nicky Parsons?" Nod again.

"Was she your only objective?" Nod, but a slight hesitation.

"You're lying." Jason fired the Ruger into the man's knee. "I'm going to ask again. Was she the agency's only objective?" The guy tried to roll to his side reflexively from the shot, but Jason didn't let him. Head shake.

"Who else are you after?" Jason's eyes were grey and calm and his body language was under complete control, but his insides roiled waiting for an answer.

"Marta…Shearing…flagged…Belgium."

"Marta Shearing?" Nod. The guy's eyes swam and Jason knew he was about to black out.

"Thank you." He walked away without looking back.


	2. Chapter 2

*Reminder: I don't own anything. Thanks for the reviews.

-Ghent, Belgium-

"Aaron?" Marta turned around, but he wasn't there. "Aaron?" There were plenty of people milling around waiting for the Candelarian shareholder meeting to start, but he wasn't one of them. She pulled the scarf from the handle of her bag and wrapped it around her neck, prepared to pull it over her head once outside. She had to move. The phone in her pocket vibrated, and she read the text. _ Found a colleague—fill me in on 1__st__ 15 min. _She exhaled and moved with the mass of people toward the amphitheater, keeping her head down. The badge on her neck read "Joanna Swales, Hedgehog Investments". It was Aaron's idea—they had just come from Wales where a hedgehog in the B&B garden had given her the fright of her life. It was easy to remember. The green contact lenses were irritating her eyes, but given the number of alcoholic drinks that were being consumed in the large lobby she didn't think the redness was noticeable.

The security guard swiped her badge without looking twice at her, just another face in the hundreds queuing for entrance. She made her way to a seat at the edge in the last rows and busied herself with Facebook and her phone, a tactic that she noticed was an effective deterrent against conversation. They had plenty of ambiance with the colored lighting and free-flowing liquor that was a blatant attempt to put the shareholders in a good mood. Aaron and Marta had discovered Serasyn was not the only "accident". A sister company's laboratory had exploded due to "improperly handled pyrophorics", and there had been four other scientists lost through a combination of car accident, suicide, and two heart attacks. The shareholders were deeply unhappy and the corporation was at pains to make them all enthused again before the stock price dropped further.

"Greetings, Candelarian shareholders!" An effusively suave VP was at the mike, sounding more like a chewing gum commercial than a corporate executive. Marta checked her watch. Fourteen minutes, forty-five seconds to go. She hoped it was that simple, and that she wasn't going to see Aaron getting shot at from between PR displays.

Aaron had seen an opportunity to infiltrate behind the scenes, and ditched the shareholder badge for a security guard's. The man had been imbibing the free alcohol and hitting on a female shareholder, and Aaron smoothly interceded for the grateful woman and pulled the guy off into the shadows, where he was quickly incapacitated and ditched behind a column, deprived of his logo jacket. Tucking the security earpiece in his ear, he walked purposefully toward the staging area. He heard the first speaker start talking, the speakers echoing through the hallways of the ICC.

"While recent events have left us saddened, we are sure that some of the new innovations we will present for the first time tonight will show that this next year will be the best yet!" There was moderate applause for this statement. _Tough crowd_, Marta thought to herself.

"This way, please," he herded some stockholders that had had too much alcohol, noting the different security guards behind the cordons. His earpiece buzzed with the timing of events. The company PR people were obviously unhappy about the crowd's reaction to the first speaker—they were moving Dr. Hillcott up in the program. He'd have to get to him after. The speaker was winding up and getting ready to hand over to Hillcott. Aaron slipped into the toilet and sent another text to Marta telling her to stay put for Hillcott's speech. Marta fidgeted in her chair and stole a look around, but most of the crowd were ignoring the PR drabble and chatting amongst themselves.

They had cordoned off a meeting room as a prep area for the speakers. He slipped a rung off the hook and turned to meet the security guard approaching him as he fastened it back in place. "La Gantoise zijn niet goed vanavond. Adriaan zegt dat we misschien nog wat problemen."

The other guard relaxed and nodded. "Ik heb geluisterd naar de wedstrijd op de radio. De menigte klinkt boos."

"Hier komt de grote man, misschien kunnen we vroeg naar huis te krijgen," Aaron nodded to Hillcott who was being ushered through the staging area, folding his arms like the other guy. "Wat is de score?"

From that point Aaron was comfortably ensconced in the staging zone, and it only took ten minutes of murmuring the right responses to Geert's updates on the match for him to meet a few other security guards. Clearly they were more interested in the game than their jobs, and Aaron (now known as Frederik to the other guards) had no problem walking away on the pretext of a text from his girlfriend. He walked the perimeter at the rear and found two exits that led to one of the service corridors he had already noted from a map. He sent a quick text to Marta instructing her to leave as soon as Hillcott finished, and head back to the service corridor via the opposite hallway on the other side of the vast lobby. He strolled back to the other guards and asked for clarification on how they were going to get the speaker out after he was done.

Marta was more than interested in Hillcott's speech. One of the reasons Aaron had agreed to let her be here instead of hiding in a hotel room is that she would be able to spot significant breakthroughs that he referenced in his speech, ones that might be worth following up in order to untangle the mess they were in. Someone was giving the orders, and until they found a way to stop them it would be a game of hit and run for life. She was determined to reclaim her life and here was an opportunity to use her experience to help.

There was no question that the audience perked up when Hillcott assumed the podium. He had 'presence', as her advisor would say. Marta had her notes program open on her Droid and as the lights darkened and the first slide clicked on, her analytical brain took over. The developments he presented in virology were no more than she expected, but it was the hints about metabolome mapping that intrigued her. It sounded like they were playing with the viral capsids in response to the changing dynamics of the immune system during infection. THAT was huge. If they could modulate the immune response, the subjects would not experience much downtime, if any. She jotted down a few notes for herself, places to look for the research, groups to look at. She was familiar with most of the names already, but a few were likely lurking and not going to be mentioned—the fresh bloods from grad school and new assistant professors eager to make a name for themselves and secure semi-permanent grant funding.

When Hillcott got to his last slide and pretended to entertain questions, Marta slipped off her chair and left the room before the lights came back on. Her mind was whirring but she needed distance and a computer in order to really unpack it all. She took a free drink to have something in her hand from one of the tables and pretended to sip it as she strolled along the far edge of the lobby. When the loud applause began she slipped through the service door just as people started to spill out from the conference room. Clearly the PR people knew when to end on a high note.

Aaron was waiting with the other guards when Hillcott and Candelaria execs came back down into the prep area. The execs were high on the thrill of selling a good vision to the shareholders, who would be further pumped the next day by the CEO himself. They were patting each other on the back and drinking their own alcohol now. He noticed that Honeycott looked tired and bored, so he suggested to Geert that he could offer to escort the speaker to his car, and Geert nodded his agreement. Aaron told him he'd make sure the corridor was clear, and after he verified that Geert was heading out behind him with Hillcott he passed quickly through the door into the corridor. Another text to Marta—_hide until we pass you_,_ then follow_. Even if the poor signal didn't let the message get through, that is what she would do instinctively. He turned and fell in next to Geert. Hillcott took no notice of him, he was just another black logo jacket. His earpiece was lighting up now…there was trouble from the football match. A draw, and thousands of angry fans. His expression tightened and he noticed Geert looked tense.

"Wacht, denk ik niet dat hij kan overal mee naartoe," Geert said, grabbing Hillcott's arm. "You need to stay here," he said to Hillcott.

"Change of plan," said Aaron, and delivered a punishing blow to Geert's midsection, then twisted his arm so that he went down at just the right angle for him to knock him out with his handgun. Hillcott, after the initial shock, had not stood still. He burst through the doors and took off running into the night.

"Aaron! What do I do?" Marta shouted at him from behind.

"Get a car and get it started!" he yelled, then took off after Hillcott. He was old and out of shape, and Aaron was catching up quite quickly. Unfortunately for him, Hillcott had headed straight for the mass of angry football fans that had fanned out from the Ottenstadion. The first few were teens bent on mischief, and the general chaos and mayhem made individual people irrelevant as targets—they were intent on breaking windows and setting fire to things. The real brawling was getting started in the middle. Hillcott had finally realized the danger and was trying to reverse course and make his way back out of the morass of angry young men. Aaron delivered a few punches himself as he fought to get to Hillcott, and was within six metres of him when he heard a bullet and Hillcott went down, the sodium street lights casting an eerie split second glow on the halo of droplets that surrounded his head as he crashed. The crowd exploded and Aaron spotted two men with clubs purposefully moving through as people scattered in every direction. Hillcott had just been terminated. Weighing the odds of reaching the body before the agents, and the presence of an asset, he pivoted and broke into a run with many others. There was no intelligence to be gained, only trouble. He criss-crossed the streets toward the ICC until he heard the squeal of tires.

"Aaron! Get in!" Marta's face leaned out of a black Merc.

"Nice wheels," he said, "let me drive," and he got in the driver's seat as she scrambled across the console. He gunned the engine and they drove away from the melee enveloping the night.

"Thank your security guard friend. It's his car," she finished buckling herself in, turned to look at his profile as he drove. "What happened?"

"He was shot," Aaron glanced at her. Her face had instantly paled. "It was an asset, a company job. Based on what I saw, they will probably bludgeon his head to make it look like a-"

"-senseless act of violence," Marta finished dully. She made a fist, shoved it in her mouth. "Shooting someone in the middle of the street, someone who has worked for them for decades…Is there no limit to what these people will do?"

"No." Aaron's tone was flat, final. Marta stared out the window as they merged onto the E17.


	3. Chapter 3

*Reminder: I don't own anything. Thanks for the reviews, I appreciate the feedback and encouragement.*

-Langley, Virginia-

"Sir, we have a problem."

Eric Byer hated when a phone call started that way. It meant someone, somewhere had screwed up royally. "What is it now?"

"Switzerland was a miss."

He leaned back in his desk chair and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "What happened?"

"The grab team was reinforced with four agents and two snipers-" began the operations geek, but Eric interrupted him, "I don't want to know how many agents had their asses handed to them, I want to know what happened to cause the grab to fail!"

"Yes, sir. We're pretty sure that Jason Bourne was there, sir."

"'Pretty sure?' I'm coming down. And you'd better be sure that EVERYONE who has been running this clusterfuck masquerading as a professional operation had better be there when I get there!" He didn't slam down the phone, although that would have been the emotional option. If nothing else, Eric Byer was a man in careful control of his emotions. He picked up the phone and speed-dialed Turso.

"This situation is now suffering from the ineptitude of the masses; however, I believe the target is engaged. I will give you an update after I knock a few clowns off the clown car."

"Very good. Keep me informed." Eric hung up the phone and straightened his tie, then headed down five floors to the operations room assigned to the Parsons job. The high pitched conversation ceased as soon as he was spotted through the glass door.

"Where is Vosen?" Eric demanded.

"He's in a meeting, sir…he left strict instructions not to be disturbed…" Eric froze the woman with a glare. "Disturb him, now!" He pinned Vosen's number two with his basilisk stare. "Wills, I want to know EXACTLY what just happened in Rafz, Switzerland, from beginning to end. I don't want to hear excuses, I want the facts. Start with how many minutes gone."

Wills cleared his throat. "Our best estimate is that the agents had been down for approximately fifteen minutes before the back-ups arrived. We had identified the residence of Nicky Parsons, and one of the field agents spotted her coming home. They decided to seize the opportunity and proceeded to surround the house with back-up from the field office, which arrived within six minutes of notification. The agents proceeded in the standard cross pattern to approach the house, but unbeknownst to them Bourne was inside. He incapacitated the first team and their back-up, then took out the field team and the surveillance/sniper team. We're assuming that Parsons and Bourne fled together."

"Congratulations, the first logical assumption all day! And they got video of this, right?" Eric asked. "They all got video, as per the new protocol?"

"Um, no, sir. The field team's video was not engaged for reasons that aren't very clear, and the surveillance team's equipment was, um, damaged."

"Damaged? How was it 'damaged', Wills?"

"A tree fell on the agent and it damaged the equipment, sir."

"A tree? A tree just _happened to fall_ on our surveillance agent? Who coincidentally is a licensed sniper? How the hell did that happen, Wills?"

"I don't know sir. Intelligence is spotty…all eight agents are in the hospital, three are still in surgery. We have a clean-up crew combing the house for prints and DNA now."

"What video did they get? Any?" At Wills' affirmative nod, "Put it on screen, now! I want Dita down here stat. You," he pointed to one of the logistics team, "Pull every single egress route out of that town and map destinations at 1, 2, and 3 hours out, then map out ten minute markers between those. I want to know exactly where they could be. You, bring up a static map of the residence on satellite."

He briefly studied the layout of the house in the landscape, then turned his attention to the video shot by the first team of field agents. The house was surrounded on three sides by woods with a small meadow, a single dirt road and intersection with suburbs off to one side and the greater town to the other.

"A courtyard…you, get on the satellites, see if you can capture any images from the last half-hour. If Bourne was there for any period of time I don't expect we will get prints. Do we know how long she was residing at that address?"

"Local intelligence had it at more than six months, sir."

"Then we should have DNA from Parsons. I want that cross-checked against her file," he ignored the positive response from one of Vosen's other lackeys and turned to let go with both barrels at Vosen as he came through the door.

"Oh Noah, how kind of you to join us at last. Perhaps you could explain to me how your field team took it upon themselves to retrieve Nicky Parsons without taking the basic precautions of intelligence verification and background prep?"

Vosen, who had obviously been prepped for the situation by his tartar of a secretary, professed extreme ignorance: "I don't know what could have happened, those were certainly not my orders…"

Disgusted, Eric turned to Dita as she came through the door. "Forget whatever is going on with Cross and Shearing, I need you here, now. Bourne is involved, I want you working every angle he could take and start digging through the feces that have been left behind at the Parsons residence."

He wheeled back to the screen, where a few satellite shots were pulling from the spy satellites. "That one, there. That is a car approaching the house. Is that how Parsons arrived home?" he turned around the room and no one had an answer. "I want to know if THAT was the car that Parsons drove home. If it was NOT the car that brought her home, then I want to know whose it is, who was in it, and where they are now."

Dita jumped in, "Magnify the image. Let's try to pull a make and model and assume we need to talk to the driver. It could be Bourne, or it could be the car they are in now. Move!"

"Give me the time since the incident," Eric barked, "The exact time based on when this video started rolling." The video itself was useless—blurry landscape, standard door kick, then ass kicking by unknown assailant(s).

"Thirty eight minutes, sir."

"Shit."

Dita was studying the static satellite map of the house. "What is that? Over there in the corner? Magnify it."

"Looks like a barn, some type of farm."

"Who owns it? Who owns the house?" More rapid keyboarding.

"Ma'am, both are registered to an elderly couple—Frederic and Anna Zenhausern, ages 77 and 73."

"Get a team out to talk to them, stat," she turned to Eric. "The landlords can tell us exactly how long she had been there."

"Do you hear that, ladies and gentlemen? This is what you should have done _before _charging in like a bull in a china shop," Vosen said. "I was not informed that Parsons had been found."

"Just plug in Vosen, I don't want apologies," Byer turned from the screen to ask, "How long until the DNA is processed?"

"It depends on the number of samples—it could be from four to twenty-four hours, sir."

"Dita, make a note for me to kick the FBI's ass for not co-adopting SNP profiling for forensics. We'd at least have a partial in thirty minutes for exclusion purposes. Get the lab to pull a Bourne blood sample from the archives and SNP profile it, stat." She nodded and picked up a phone.

Byer turned back to the agent tracking the forensics; "Let's aim for the lower end of that window, ok? I don't want any more surprises. Have we made the car yet?"

"Most likely a VW Golf, dark color. The most popular car in Switzerland…model year maybe five years out?"

"Naturally. Well, Vosen, your people fucked up, they get to chase down all the dark colored VW Golfs in Rafz."

-Near the Belgian border-

"This game is missing some pieces," David complained. "The pirate pops up too fast."

"Here, try this. Use the tiles to spell your name and other words that you know," Nicky pulled over her bag and removed a sack, shook out Scrabble tiles on the table, then went back to scanning the laptop screen with Jason on the train. She was running out of her stash of toys to keep David entertained. They were about ten minutes outside of Brussels, but she doubted they would stay knowing the CIA could be crawling over it looking for Marta Shearing. "I'd love a second monitor to do this…" she murmured as they both clicked and dragged various windows forward and back. Jason was also working the browser on her phone, but it was slower than the laptop.

"Here…Serasyn. Part of a larger conglomerate, Candelarian. Biotechnology programs, genome mapping, virology."

Jason pulled another window forward, the lurid headline decrying the latest "senseless act of workplace violence".

"This guy was a plant. Just waiting for the alarm to go off," he said grimly, looking at a picture of Donald Foite. "She's lucky to be alive…doesn't look like she still is on her own dime, though" he pointed to another window and Nicky pulled it forward.

"I doubt that after her colleague kills everyone in front of her that she'd be sneaking live virus home for nefarious purposes," Nicky said, but Jason was already moving to another news article with the mouse. "The whole house burned to the ground." They made eye contact and Nicky said what Jason had already concluded. "A rogue asset."

"What does 'rogue' mean?" David was standing there, and Nicky shuttled him off to clean up the tiles.

"Time for dinner and a change," Jason said, but finished scanning the article on the phone under the headline from Ghent: "Football Riot Ends Three Lives".

Nicky looked at him as she helped David into his coat. "Where are we going for dinner?"

"The mall. We need to make a few purchases."

"Can I get a toy?" David asked.

"Maybe, bud."

"And Dr. Shearing?" Nicky murmured while David went to the toilet.

"They're gone. Now we need to find out where they went."

Their first stop at the mall was the food court. Jason left Nicky with his cell number and promised to be back in twenty minutes, then vanished down the escalator. He didn't like leaving them alone, but a crowded food court and a tired and hungry kid meant some tradeoffs were going to happen. He already knew exactly what he needed to buy, and when the salesguy realized how much he was buying, he was only too happy to help him speedily complete the purchases. He was done in exactly seventeen minutes and headed back up the escalator to find Nicky & David in the food court, booting up his new smartphone as the stairs climbed.

"I bought you some frites and a burger," Nicky said as he sat down with his bags.

"Thanks. I bought you a new phone. Happy Birthday." He took a bite of the burger and snapped a picture of the logo on the phone box, then logged into Facebook to post it. Nicky was curious now, and leaned over his shoulder as he swiped the text for the post in French: "Yay, new phone!" and hit upload, then pocketed the phone.

"It's not Mommy's birthday!"

"It's a joke, David," Nicky said. "Finish your dinner, we are going to be leaving soon."

Jason glanced at him, saw the scowl, and quickly added, "After we buy you that new toy." Tradeoffs.

Nicky opened her mouth to ask about Facebook, but thought the better of it and closed it. _They don't do random_, she reminded herself. She had to respect Jason's guidance of David toward an interesting but pretty travel-tough toy—magnetic tanagrams. He ruffled David's hair when he smiled up at him with excitement, then let her handle the purchase while he surfed the web on his phone, then her phone.

"What next?"

"A cab to the airport."

"Where are we going?"

"Orlando." He handed back her new phone, web browser still open: Gordon Research Conference in Physical Virology, Orlando, FL.


	4. Chapter 4

A couple of notes: I know Gordon Conferences never happen in Orlando, this is the "fiction" part-I'm exercising creative license. Next chapter will finally see Cross and Bourne meet each other for the first time...and don't forget about the nasty piece of work that is Col. Byer. This is so fun to write-thanks for reading! Again, just for fun and I own nothing.**

-Orlando, Florida, USA-

"How did you do it?" Jason asked, putting a hot cup of coffee in front of her on the scarred table and then sitting down across from her.

The motel room was old but clean, and had the advantage of a loft bedroom where David was sleeping peacefully. It had probably been quite the place back in the '70s when Disney World opened. She tried, but Nicky couldn't sleep—her mind endlessly chasing angles while she snuggled David back to sleep. He'd been bounced through four countries in the last 24 hours. Three different trains, a plane, a change of passports, and he'd handled it as well as an almost five year old could. He was now snuggled down with Floyd and a new addition, a small green alligator, which Jason had bought for him at the airport to halt a major meltdown. Unsurprisingly, Jason had been awake when she softly came back downstairs.

"What time is it?" she asked, ignoring his question and taking a sip of the terrible coffee. She eyed him across the top of her mug. He was studying her with a glint of something—amusement? in his eyes. Wherever he had been for the past two years, he had recovered some more bits of his personality. On the plane she had caught him listening to Pandora—a mix of bad '80s pop and '90s grunge. It reminded _her _of one particularly interesting night in a club, but of course he didn't remember it so she didn't mention it.

"About midnight," he said, eyes calm as he waited for her to acknowledge his question.

"Why is it that you and I always end up having discussions over bad coffee?" she said quietly after another dreadful sip.

"Nicky," was all he said, but he grabbed her hand and gave it a small squeeze. "I need to know."

She took a deep breath. _Here we go_. She hesitantly met his gaze and squeezed his hand, then let go to cradle the bad coffee. "I didn't know I was pregnant…that night in the safe house. You were so different, and what you were saying…it didn't make sense. Conklin was barking at you and you were so angry," she looked up at him, "I knew you weren't quite Jason Bourne any more. Something had gone wrong in Marseille, but it hit me—you didn't remember any of us, you didn't remember me. And I thought, I could die right here. But you escaped and I picked up the pieces for the agency, I cleaned up the mess and they were looking for you."

"To kill me."

She met his cool gaze again. "Yes. And I did my job. I thought you had gone crazy. They made it sound like you were going to expose everything. And I had realized I was late—really late. I had blamed it on the stress of you not returning from the Wombosi mission, but then it had been over two months. I took three tests to be sure, and I panicked. I became erratic at work…they sent me to a company shrink," she looked away and took a measured sip. "I was diagnosed with PTSD and sent on a four week furlough. I didn't know if I could have the baby, how would I hide it from the agency…they couldn't know it was yours, I knew that would be fatal. I had almost decided to have an abortion, and then I felt it—I felt David move inside me. And I just couldn't let him go, Jason." There was something in her eyes, a fire quickly banked, a slight pleading note for understanding in her voice, and Jason moved involuntarily, taking her hand again wordlessly.

"I'm glad." His voice was hoarse, and he broke contact to put his mug in the sink, needing something to do. "And then what?" He leaned on the kitchenette counter, looking anything but relaxed.

"I contacted my aunt. She was estranged from my mother, always a wild child hippy, at least the way my parents told it. I requested an additional six months' leave for mental health reasons and told my parents I needed to travel, needed to be an ordinary young woman for a while so I could put everything in perspective. I had to call in regularly to speak to the company shrink, but otherwise I was left in peace as long as I said the right things on the phone calls. Aunt Tamara agreed to go with me, unbeknownst to my parents."

"Why couldn't your parents help?"

Nicky got up from the table herself to put away her mug, and turned to look tiredly at Jason. She gave him a half smile and said, "I wish I could forget it myself—my dad is ex-agency. It's quite literally 'the family firm' for me. We both know that kind of 'help' wouldn't come free; if he even decided I was worth helping.

Anyway, Tam and I bumped around until it was very close to my due date. Australia, Thailand, Vietnam, India…we worked our way through southeast Asia until I felt it was time to get ready for baby. I didn't want to deal with more passport complications than necessary, so I'd decided to have the baby somewhere in Europe. With an EU passport it would be easier…I just had to decide where. Switzerland had a lot of advantages, here they are private and they leave their own citizens alone. I pulled a certificate of citizenship from Lausanne and he was born in Geneva. I left him with Tam and went back to work at the agency, but they transferred me to the Netherlands. I was doing logistics again, but not for black ops. I found out I was labeled 'fragile' by the psychiatrist" here Jason snorted, "-and they didn't want me in a black ops program again. But Abbott showed up and that was it…you know the rest."

"Why did you get moved to Madrid? And how did you come to have custody of David again?" His face was expressionless, but Nicky knew behind the assessing eyes he was processing all the information she was giving him and pinpointing her motivations, how he would have reacted had he known.

"Neal Daniels requested me personally. I didn't want to have anything to do with Treadstone or Blackbriar, but he knew my father and the agency didn't want me wandering after Berlin. I think he had already decided to run but he wanted to tell me more, sort of his apology to my father in absentia. I knew that the chances of you turning up were higher than ever, and after Berlin…after Berlin I didn't know what you would do. I played the game, Jason. I kept Tam and David to myself, I didn't even let myself get near them for fear I would lead you to them." Her face was blank, but her eyes were banked with protectiveness and Jason didn't blame her.

"And after Tangier, when I put you on the bus—what then?" He paced to work off some of the energy that was coursing through him. He could picture all the missing pieces for her now, see how vigilant she had to be with him after Berlin, then the near-miss in Morocco. All that time, she'd have been terrified that someone would find out about their child, and use it against either of them.

"I went to South Africa, Argentina, Brazil—I hoped another continental drift would be enough to dissuade any agency attempts at tracking me. I would have moved back to Asia if I hadn't heard from Tam." She stopped and turned away from him. It bothered him on a basic level, but he didn't have time to process it. Her voice was raw from pain when she spoke.

"She had cancer. Lung cancer. I had told her to place an ad, major paper, you know the drill. I came as soon as I could. By the time I was there to help her, the pathology had come back—aggressive. She didn't want to tie us down to a hospital, so she asked for hospice care. It was less than a month after my arrival that she died. David was devastated. I didn't have a choice. I had to stay, try to give him something like normal. I scouted towns under the pretense of day trips with David, trying to find something more strategically placed. And that is how I ended up here. I know all the rail lines, schedules, border weaknesses, and the tendency of the town is to keep to themselves and work elsewhere. I thought by staying in one place, with a small child, I would be even more anonymous. It was the only thing I could do, Jason," she said, whirling around accusingly, and he was standing in front of her in a split second. She could tell he was angry from the way his eyes had darkened and flashed.

"Do you think I begrudge you the decision to give him time to grieve? To work with difficult circumstances the best way you know how? Jesus, Nicky, I don't know what I would have done, but what kind of man was I that you think I would second-guess your decisions? I wasn't here! You were. We play the cards we've been dealt, and we move on—except _I don't remember_ all the cards I've been dealt!" He ran his fingers through his hair and pivoted away on his heel, resuming his pacing. He had dealt with this frustration over his inability to recall all the pieces before, and he knew he had to focus on moving forward. If it never came back he would just have to live with it. That was one gift Marie had given him, some perspective.

Nicky knew he was agitated. She was agitated too. It was the worst kind of agony to have him here, protecting her, protecting their son, and still he didn't remember anything from how that child was conceived. She was angry and thrilled and heartbroken.

"So what now? What is our play?" she asked quietly, arms wrapped around her sides as she leaned back against the counter. He stopped pacing, and looked at her with a distracted expression on his face. "You need to tell me what you're thinking. How are we going to make lemonade out of this?" she ended quietly, looking at him.

Silence.

She was afraid to break the gaze because of how Jason was staring at her, a questioning look on his face. "It was your birthday, wasn't it? The safe house was compromised…I killed two people, and one of them had popped off a shot at you, but he missed. And you told me, it was your birthday, and damn it you wanted cake. You were going to make lemonade, by God. That was it, wasn't it?"

Her brown eyes were transfixed on his blue ones. He walked over to stand right in front of her, brought his left hand up to push a strand of hair behind her ear. "I brought you to a hotel. And I slept with you."

His fingers paused on her cheek. "That was how it started," Nicky said, involuntarily licking her lips. "I was young and naïve, and you were hot and dangerous…I didn't stop to think." His eyes drifted down to her mouth, his right arm ghosted down her left and he shifted just enough to feel the heat from her legs against his thighs.

"And what are you thinking now?" he asked softly, asking her to acknowledge exactly where they were headed.

"I wish you could remember us," she breathed.

"I remember this." Jason kissed her and she stopped breathing.

Jason couldn't sort through the whirl of emotions. There was something primal about it: a claiming of his mate, the mother of his offspring. He found a sort of sensory memory about her body, how she responded to his kisses and caresses. It was intoxicating and satisfying in a way he couldn't articulate. There was aching relief in knowing she had seen him at his absolute worst, knew what he was, and she still trusted him with her body, her life, their son. He couldn't get enough of her.

"Jason?" Nicky's head was tucked into his shoulder against the pillow. He had been turning over the information about Shearing, the mystery rogue asset, trying to make it fit with the larger puzzle. Was he a Blackbriar agent, or from some other program? The layers were murky and that made them all the more dangerous. He could hear the drowsiness in her voice, but there was a thread of steel there, too. "What is our play?"

He sighed and looked down to meet her gaze. "I find and talk to Shearing, which means I meet her protector. Go to sleep Nicky."

"You first," she said stubbornly, and he grinned slightly. "You think so?" he flipped her over and proceeded to ensure she was too tired to argue next time.

Jason had just finished making the dreck that passed for coffee in the room when he heard small feet coming downstairs. The pad of those feet to the bathroom had woken him up, and it hadn't taken long to throw on his clothes & turn on the coffeemaker. He figured the kiddo would head straight for his mom, so he headed him off at the bottom of the stairs and said, "Güten tag, David." He didn't analyze it, just enjoyed the sleepy-eyed look from the mite, who, he noticed, was still clutching the alligator he'd bought for him yesterday. "You think of a name for that guy yet?"

"Tock, I think. Because he is mean to bad guys."

Jason grinned. "Like Captain Hook, huh? Good choice." He didn't miss David's eyes confirming that Nicky was still there, so he suggested, "How about I make you some breakfast? Let's let your mom sleep for a bit, she's tired."

"Okay."

…Nicky gradually heard David's voice, and Jason's. Their tone was normal so she could shut off the panic part of her brain. All safe, all okay. She nuzzled back into the pillow and tried to get back to dreamland. What a delicious dream too…she stretched her legs and realized it had not been a dream when parts of her that had gone unvisited for a good few years twinged a reminder. She smiled and didn't regret waking then. _Yum_.

"Mom doesn't make it that way," she heard David say to Jason in a slightly petulant tone.

"Yeah, well, Dad does things differently," he replied, then she heard a plate sliding across the table. "You'll like it anyway. Dip the toast in the yolks, it's the best part." She lifted her head and met Jason's eyes across the room. He sipped his coffee and dared her to say anything. She darted a glance at David, who was actually eating the first piece of toast dipped in egg but was stealing glances at both of them. Jason turned to get a mug. "You'd better get dressed there, Mommy."

David was still watching her and she realized she didn't have any clothes on. She heard Jason laugh when David asked, "Why is Mom hiding under the covers like that?" and kept digging at the bottom of the bed for any clothes. She would NOT wear the bedsheet.

Jason walked over to the bed and pulled up the sheet to hand Nicky one of his tees. "Nice view," he commented as her head reemerged from the sheets and she pulled the shirt over her head. She stuck her tongue out at him and he gave her her mug of coffee. David took it all in wide-eyed between bites and she cleared her throat, "Ahem. Time for a shower?" There was a lot more going unsaid but it would wait, through unspoken agreement.

"Three minutes." She nodded, made her way up to the bath with her coffee. Jason went back to the stove to scramble some eggs for himself & Nicky. He turned back to check on David, who had almost polished off his breakfast. He was mopping up the last bit of yolk when he looked up at him and asked, "Are you really my father?" Jason finished the eggs and turned them out onto two plates, then sat down at the table, his left arm crossed over his chest while he finished his coffee and considered his son. The kid had a solemn expression on his face. _The card that flipped it all_, he thought to himself. He was still sorting through the wild rollercoaster of emotions he'd been on since he first locked eyes with those baby blues, but he knew for damn sure that he would never give it up without a fight.

"Yeah, I am, bud. Is that okay with you?"

David leapt out of his chair and came over to poke him hard in the arm. "Why did you leave Mom? Why haven't you been here before? You scared her, you know! I saw her face when I got home! She was mad and scared, and it was your fault!" His brows were drawn together in anger, and at Jason's raised eyebrow and look at his offending finger poke, he shoved both arms under his armpits and scowled at him. Jason put the mug down, got off the chair, and crouched down to look David in the eye.

"David, I had a job a while ago, and it was a bad job. I did a lot of things for my bosses that I regret, and when I quit, they didn't like it. They tried to hurt me, and they tried to hurt your mom. So we split up to be safer, and she didn't tell me about you. Now that I know about you, I'm not going to leave you again. And I while I can't promise that I won't ever make your mom mad or scared, I can promise that I will do everything and anything I have to do to keep you both safe." Jason looked up at Nicky, knowing she had come downstairs while he was speaking. She knew he was promising her, too. David seemed to size him up and then nodded once.

"Get dressed, David. It's almost time to go. Don't forget Floyd!" Nicky called as he ran up the stairs, making motor noises as he went.

Jason stood up and went back to the table to eat. Nicky sat down and they ate quickly. She got another cup of coffee which included all the black grainy goodness from the bottom of the carafe.

"You're going to drink that?" Jason raised an eyebrow at her.

"Someone kept me up late. It's this or No Doz," she retorted, but ruined the effect with a blush after the knowing look he gave her. _Jesus, Nicky, you're acting like you're 24 again and it's Paris._

"I didn't hear any complaints," he replied, after putting his plate in the sink. He was about to kiss her when they heard off-key, garbled singing from the bathroom.

"The dentist told him to sing a favorite song while he brushes his teeth," Nicky explained, and they both smiled. She ate her breakfast quickly, both of them scanning the web on the laptop and tablet, another new purchase from Belgium.

"Our best bet when we leave is a plane. There are enough flights out of Orlando that we'll be lost in the crowd if we have time and it gives us more options," Nicky said. "If we have to drive, it's uglier."

Jason nodded. "I'll do the dishes. You go take care of packing up Junior and wipe down upstairs, okay?"

"On it." She tucked her hair behind her ears and stood up, "Jason, I can't keep David cooped up all day. I was thinking I would take him to the beach."

"That's an hour drive. I'm not comfortable with that. Go to Disney World," he said quixotically, then turned to flip off the coffeemaker.

"Are you kidding? What about all the cameras?"

"Nope. Wear one of the crazy souvenir hats and big sunglasses. You'll blend right in, and he'll love it."

"Jason?"

He put down the tablet and walked over to her. "I meant what I said, Nicky. Never again." A part of Nicky's heart that she had walled off flexed and ached slightly, kind of like the pain from a healing wound.

"I know," she whispered. "I'm glad…I'd rather find the way out of the rabbit hole with you."

"If there is one, we'll find it," he said grimly. "But Nicky—I think it's time for you to talk to your dad." He was holding her arms gently, but his eyes were firm.

Nicky didn't know what to say. "He's retired," she said flatly, as if that absolved any potential connection. Jason could see that had stirred up a lot of different feelings, but he didn't have time to explore exactly what sort of family dynamic had split apart the Parsons home and made her think her father would not help her instead of his employer.

He flipped the tablet around to show her a picture of John Parsons standing with Ezra Kramer and Senator Sutton in the paper from an embassy dinner. "Nobody retires from the agency at that level." He left unspoken the fact that they were almost out of time: the DNA left in Rafz would reveal the existence of their son, and Nicky needed to tell John Parsons that he had a grandson before the CIA did it for them.


	5. Chapter 5

-Orlando, Florida-

"I was supposed to be presenting at this conference," she murmured to Aaron. She was studying the program on a laptop from their hotel room, while Aaron was finishing their conference badges. "You'd never know it from this program, they scrubbed it in a hurry…Ha! My abstract is still there."

Aaron looked over her shoulder. "Epitope Mapping in Vector-Target Interactions. What does that mean?"

Marta turned her head to grin at him. "It means I mapped your immune system before I mapped your ass."

"At least I got my own back," Aaron said with a glint in his eye. "You have your list of people you'd like to talk to?"

"Yes. There is one post-doc from Hayde's group that is probably looking for a job—Paul Octov. I think he will be hitting the network pretty hard here…most people do after putting in their time working for Jude, he's quite a character." She grinned to herself and continued, "Then there is an eager beaver from Cal Poly, Cal Venugopal, and a female postdoc, Lin Shi, from Taiwan Tech."

"Great. I look forward to meeting them," Aaron said, leaning back and studying her.

"What?" Marta stopped scrolling and looked at him. Her expression went from confused to annoyed in a heartbeat as she realized what he meant.

"Your face has been plastered all over the news in this country, and all of these people know you. Even with the best disguise, there is no way you can get within twenty feet of this conference and not have the entire CIA gunning for you." Aaron explained it all patiently while he was calming checking his handgun, then holstered it under his sport coat.

"Oh, and you're going to be able to talk to anyone about virology without being made in ten seconds?" Marta was nervous and her instinctive reaction was to retaliate. She was still not used to the fact that she was now a target for assassination.

"That is what this is for," Aaron handed her an earpiece and wireless monitor. "You will see and hear everything that they are saying and you can tell me what to ask." He put on a pair of glasses that had a tiny webcam hidden in the frames, and wired up his earpiece, which bore a striking resemblance to a hearing aid.

"And where am I supposed to be while you are at the conference?" she asked. "Sipping coffee in Starbucks, watching everything you do?" Aaron knew she was caving now. She was too logical to fail to admit the precariousness of her situation.

"Not exactly. The likelihood is that the conference is being watched—you're going to be in it, but not at it so I can stay close to you. You're going to be the janitor," he held up an employee badge. "Did I mention the gray hair?" He held up a bag from Goodwill, the ultimate source in cheesy Halloween costumes and supplies like gray hair tint.

She threw a crumpled up piece of paper at him and frowned. "I'm a scientist, not an Academy Award winner."

"Tap into your inner drama queen, because that's the only option you've got." Aaron was advancing toward her with a roll of aluminum foil and the spray can. "Welcome to Orlando's most exclusive salon—any place in particular where you'd like your gray highlights?"

"God," she moaned and put her head down on her arms. Aaron didn't tell her about the prosthetic nose, or the padding. Better to unveil her new 'look' one piece at a time.

Jason had compartmentalized the morning nicely, dropping Nicky & David at a monorail stop for Disney World after he'd hacked her phone with a few necessary modifications, including a tracking program that allowed him to trace it from his phone and his phone only.

"How do you know how to do that?" she whispered while they were walking up to the queue, which despite her low tone did not escape the ears of their son.

"What are you doing to Mom's phone, Dad?"

"Just putting a few apps on it, to keep you entertained in line," he replied in case any of the other tourists shuffling along were listening. "I put Angry Birds and a Lego game on there, you can download others if you like."

He gave Nicky a quick kiss more for the benefit of the general public than from any particular desire to do so. Nicky could tell his brain was already focused on the objectives for the day, and given that she and David were now comfortably lost in a huge crowd with equally commercial souvenir shirts, hats, and sunglasses, his brain was already on the conference. "See you later in the park," Jason said and he walked away. Nicky smiled politely to another woman nearby in line with two kids about six and four who piped up with "I don't know how to work my phone either!" and focused on the torture ahead: large crowds, endless lines, and a super excited boy. _Oh, and the possibility that at any time we could have to run for our lives_, she thought wryly.

It was about 1 pm when Jason arrived at the Gordon Conference. He blended in with the rest of the scientists returning from the lunch break. The morning's sessions had been dominated by the plenary speaker and an award winner, neither of which were likely to be the reason Dr. Shearing would be here. He was betting her interests lay in the afternoon poster sessions, where new talent was scoped out by companies and government entities. In essence, the scientists were just the bait today—he and Shearing's protection would be after the government reps who were recruiting her replacement. Jason had no doubt that the government would have their hand in—Candelarian may be an efficient company, but after all their bad publicity and "bad luck" they would not be the most favorable employer. A GS12 job offer at a national lab or affiliate lab, on the other hand, would be a very attractive prospect.

He made a quick survey of the room as he entered the poster session close on the heels of two older scientists engaged in a low conversation. The way he positioned himself made it look like he was a participant in the conversation, which made him utterly invisible. Two surveillance team members were at the edge of the large hall that was filled with dividers, posters and numbers tacked on either side of all of them. They were low-key and staying to the fringes of the room. He adjusted his glasses and pretended to check the program, where he'd randomly circled the numbers for a few posters. He made his way to the first one because it was on the interior of the room and quickly moved on when he saw the author was not talking to anyone else. The last thing he needed was to be drawn into a technical conversation. He kept his eyes open and started paying attention to the most popular posters and authors.

One aisle over, Aaron was engaged in a conversation that made no sense to him but he could tell that Marta was excited about whatever it was that Paul Octov was doing. The questions had gotten quite complicated, talking about epitopes, antibody lines, connexins, and capsid mutation rates. He had to cut it off, there was a funny looking guy who had come over and interrupted the conversation a few times, his Russian accent slipping through on words like "bet" and "caught"—Marta had piped in that it was Octov's boss, Jude Hayde. Within three minutes Aaron had pinpointed him further as Ukrainian, but the poster said University of Maryland Medical Center. Aaron thanked the presenter for his time and passed him his phony business card, representing himself as a senior scientist at Roche. "We'll be in touch, thank you."

Jason had just caught a glimpse of Aaron as he arrived at the aisle, but the same poster that Aaron had just left was busy now with two government reps. Jason planted himself two posters down and asked the presenter to explain his work, then nodded and pretended to pay attention, but his focus was entirely on the government geeks. He pegged one as military, probably from Bethesda or Ft. Detrick. The other one was not participating much in the conversation, which instantly made him suspicious. He leaned in to the poster he was at for a closer look at a data plot, then asked the author to explain why the error bars were larger for two data sets. "How does that impact your plans to expand the experimental set?" he asked, subtly shifting himself so he was half-hidden by another conferee who had just arrived at the poster and was avidly listening to the presenter. "Thank you very much," he smiled and passed the young woman his card, and moved on, away from the asset he was sure was planted at poster 19 next to the government geek.

He swept the scene with his eyes and watched the man who had just left poster 19 before he arrived slipping from the room. Instinctively he followed him, not hurrying but not wanting to lose him. Unless he missed his guess, he had found Dr. Shearing's asset. He pretended to wipe sweat from his forehead, loosened his tie, and moved toward the exit. The surveillance team had crept around to the head of the aisle to watch the government reps, and for all intents and purposes he looked like a man taking a break for a glass of water at the drinks table in the lobby.

Once he cleared the doors, he instantly looked for the asset. He was good, almost out of view. Jason followed him quickly, less concerned now about being seen. The guy ducked into a closed restroom, tucked away around a corner and not likely to be highly trafficked. Now for the tricky part—to get to talk to him without one of them getting killed. His track record was not good on that front. His adrenaline had already kicked up and he expected the attack when he ducked under the tension frame closed sign and through the open U entry to the bathroom. The lights had gone off, leaving the room bathed in emergency lighting only at floor level.

Aaron knew he was being followed, but not by whom. He told Marta to get back and instantly hit out at the man who entered the room. He was clearly well trained, parrying his first attack and responding in kind with a perfectly executed feint and sucker punch, which Aaron dodged. Using a gun was out of the question with the other agents in the conference hall, so fists and kicks were the order of the day. He grabbed a mop from Marta's janitorial cart and she gasped when the man parried his hard sweep down with his sport coat, twisting the mop away and knocking it to the floor.

"Listen," Jason said, knowing he needed to put an end to this quickly as he parried another attack from the asset and landed a punch for himself in the guy's ribcage. His kidney was smarting from a well-placed kick and some real damage was about to be done to each other if he couldn't get it to stop. "I'm Jason Bourne," he was getting pissed off now as the asset landed another bruising blow to his back, so he tweaked the guy's shoulder with a particularly effective double parry and shoulder throw he'd developed himself. He had heard the gasp, knew Shearing was in the room (obviously the janitor) and he needed the lights on to end this rubbish.

Aaron didn't want to let up for a second, aware that any inattention could be the end. He had no idea what Bourne sounded like, but it would be a cruelly effective diversionary tactic if he let it work. He flipped the attacker and had to give him points for the instantaneous flip back up to his feet and the quick side kick that landed him on his own ass. "Jesus, just turn on the damn lights, you know what I look like!" Jason shouted, frustrated that he had been maneuvered away from the lights again as Aaron took him down and they began wrestling on the floor. The guy was very, very quick, but he was not as field-hardened as Jason. This was where it was going to end in about five seconds unless something changed, and Jason was damned if he was going to be on the losing end. The lights clicked on and they both sprang away from each other, breathing hard.

"For fuck's sake, Marta, why did you wait so long to do that?" Aaron rubbed his shoulder. "That was a good move, I liked that."

"You weren't doing too badly yourself," Jason said, briefly stretched his back. They both looked at Marta, whose faux nose rendered her truly unattractive, in addition to her pissed off expression.

"Well, you know how to catch attention, gentlemen. Marta, glad to see you alive and well. Call me, I would like to help. Now I suggest all three of you exit this facility, as the government's people are heading this way." Jude Hayde stood in the doorway, nodded to Marta.

"Let's go," Jason and Aaron both said, nodding to each other and hurrying Marta out of the bathroom. "Thank you Dr. Hayde—sorry for this," Aaron said as Jason knocked him out.

"What did you do that for?" Marta hissed as they ran out through an empty classroom and into the quad of the campus.

"Collateral damage," said Jason, weaving behind a tree after a glance behind verified that the asset in the conference was following them on foot, gun in hand. Bullets were starting to fly.

"Car," Aaron said, firing three rounds back at the asset.

"Check," Jason said, taking his own shots. He bloodied one of the surveillance team in the shoulder, likely taking him out due to the spurt of blood, but they were further back. The guy in front was the problem. A bullet zinged past and winged him on his thigh.

"Get your head down!" Aaron pushed Marta's head down as they sprinted, angled himself behind her as Jason dodged far right and emptied his first clip, gratified to finally see a red bloom on the guy's right arm.

"We need some people—cut through the student center," Jason said. Aaron nodded, taking another set of shots and getting winged himself in the left arm. He had, however, taken down the other half of the surveillance team, leaving the asset as the only remaining chase member for now. The students they knocked down served as speed bumps for their foe, and campus security was late arriving to the party. It only needed the local police and the three ring circus would be complete. "Call the police! Some guy in khakis started shooting at the conference in the Weller building!" Jason yelled, knowing that the students would scatter and call 911, serving two purposes.

Marta's stomach felt like it was about to explode but she pushed herself even harder as they sprinted through the student commons. Aaron had parked their rental car in a faculty lot right next to the student union, they just had to get to it. They burst through the exit doors at the lot, Aaron had the keys out and they were in the car, speeding out of the lot as the asset broke through a window and popped off a couple of rounds that missed as the car swerved with the access road past some large trees.

Jason reloaded his gun and chambered the next round, checking the side view mirror. "He's coming now, white SUV."

"Got him," Aaron said, "Marta, stay down! We working a one-two punch?" he asked, looking over at Jason.

"No problem," Marta said weakly. "I'm just trying not to throw up." Jason grinned in spite of himself. Nicky would be popping off shots herself.

"If we can keep him from hitting us, yeah, that would work. First objective is to keep him busy enough in the car."

Aaron was taking the car onto the surface streets now, moving through the surrounding neighborhoods at high speed with plenty of turns. Jason leaned out the window and hit the SUV's right front tire as they rounded a corner, but the tire was a never-flat and it didn't slow it down appreciably.

"Damn it I hate those tires," he said without heat, dispassionately changing guns for the larger caliber ammunition with incendiary rounds.

"Tell me about it," said Aaron. "Hold the wheel," and he leaned out his side as Jason cornered hard left to aim at the left front tire.

"I think we're pissing him off," he said as the SUV edged forward and grinded into the rear left of the car. The asset shot out the windows and glass spattered over Marta, who was digging through Aaron's backpack. Aaron turned the wheel hard left and shoved the SUV into a line of parked cars, causing him to drop back. Jason took advantage of the distraction and fired off three rounds of incendiaries, successfully popping the right front tire.

"That will really piss him off," he said with cold satisfaction.

"Can I use this?" Marta said, holding up a semiautomatic assault rifle.

"Can she?" Jason quirked an eyebrow and met Aaron's gaze, and Aaron glanced back at Marta. "Yeah, just give her the time to pop up."

"Hidden depths," Jason murmured to himself, checking over his shoulder as Aaron punched the gas and they hit the industrial part of town.

"Oh, she's not so bad. She gets sick, and then she gets mad."

"Excuse me!" Marta said, outraged to be discussed so casually while a trained assassin was trying to murder them.

"See what I mean?" Aaron said, and Jason grinned. "Now, Marta!" Aaron said, cornering hard toward a construction zone.

"16th and Warner, excellent choice…excuse me," Jason said, leaning over Aaron's chest and knocking out the left front tire with more incendiary fire while Marta raked the side with large caliber fire. "Whoops," Jason said, pulling back in quickly and pulling Aaron with him as the asset emptied a fresh clip into the car. "Marta, you okay back there?"

"Yeah, fine." She was hyperventilating, her conscious brain recognizing how close those bullets came to her brain. "Are we done yet?"

Aaron cornered and hit the brakes while simultaneously pulling left into a line of cones, while the SUV shot past, visibly overcorrecting. It hit the uneven pavement edge of the street that was being stripped and repaved, and with the two front tires compromised it flipped over sideways twice. Aaron was already reversed and speeding off when the guy emerged from the car.

"We are now," Aaron said, turned his head to look at Jason. "Where to?"

"Disney World—yes, seriously. I need to pick someone up."

Marta blinked hard, and Aaron whistled. "I sense one hell of a story."

"You don't know the half of it," Jason said, pulling out his phone and texting, _We're on our way_.


	6. Chapter 6

**Note: Please keep reviewing if you like it! Thanks!

-Disney World, Orlando, FL-

Her phone beeped and buzzed halfway through Peter Pan's Flight. David was too busy swooping his arms like Peter to notice that she snuck a peek at the screen: _Call your father now_, followed by a number. She ignored it and put the phone away. Five minutes later as they were walking toward Cinderella's Castle, it buzzed and beeped again. _ Do it now. _At the same time, she had the uncomfortable feeling that they were being followed.

"What is that, Mom?" David asked, his eyes masked under the long brim of the Goofy baseball cap, complete with teeth that he was sporting.

"Oh, your dad wants me to find him a Disney Villains shirt, buddy—look, there's one right there. Then we can go get a snack, how does that sound?" She pulled David along in a big swoop just as a noisy group of Japanese tourists exited the self-guided castle tour, ducking into the dark entrance of the store.

"Mom, this store is scary. Are you sure Dad wants a shirt with all the bad guys on it?" He was turning around and had spied the life-size Maleficent figure. _Great call Nicky_, she said to herself, but felt better for letting the group of people outside pass by the tiny shop that was tucked in the corner of the castle. She pretended to check her phone for him, "Hey, let me check—you're right! He said to please buy him a Disney INCREDIBLES shirt, my mistake. Let's go down toward Main Street so we can find that."

"Can I still have a snack?"

"You bet. Tell you what, let's go through Liberty Square on the way—we'll find a snack on the way to the Main Street shops," she saw a polo shirt that looked too familiar starting to come back through the castle bridge. It vanished up the stairs at the self-guided tour exit.

"Mom, why are you buying another hat?"

"This one isn't very comfortable, I would like something a bit cushier," she lied, paying for it in cash and pocketing the change quickly. "Sometimes the plastic bands in the hats are harder than I'd like. There, do I look like Dopey?"

"You look funny," David grinned.

"Let's go." Her phone buzzed again and she read the incoming text, thankfully not another damn reminder about calling her father: _We're on the way_. Thank God…but so were the CIA. She walked faster, then started skipping as a way to get David moving faster. It looked cute enough for a Disney ad campaign, but as soon as they rounded the corner of the path she picked him up and began walking much faster.

"We'll find a bathroom soon bud," she said loudly to explain, and hurriedly made for the front. There were fewer cameras here, Liberty Square was a duller part of the park. She fumbled for her earpiece, said, "Jason" and his phone was ringing.

"We need you. Now."

Jason froze at the tone of her voice. "How many?"

"Definitely one, but there have to be more. I think they are using facial recognition software on the cameras, we must have been made from the rides. The sun shifted…" she stopped because she was babbling.

"I am one minute from the gate," he made eye contact with Aaron, who had tensed as soon as Jason's phone rang. "As soon as I hit the park I will deal with the cameras. Keep moving and keep talking."

Jason removed the tablet computer from his backpack which he'd retrieved from the lockers.

"Jason, I can see two of them now…they are being held up by a big group moving in the opposite direction."

"We're in the park," he muted his phone and passed the bag and computer to Marta. "Put on the baby. Aaron, help her with that baby harness. He pulled out his phone and saw exactly where Nicky was—heading to Main Street from Liberty Square. He unmuted the phone, asked, "How's David?" He met Aaron's surprised glance and muted it again as Marta had the baby on. "Tuck the tablet in, we're going to drop you at the Mothers Station. Ask to breastfeed, then take out the tablet and start the only program on the desktop. No one will bother you and we will be back for you in five minutes. Mark it and if we're not back, get to the car." Marta nodded.

"Jason, they are starting to run," Nicky was sounding stressed now, "It's okay David, Dad's here now and we're going to let him deal with it, okay?"

"How fast can you run?" he asked Aaron.

"Faster than you," Aaron said frankly, and Jason nodded. "Get to Liberty Square stat, straight down Main Street and to the left before the castle. Nicky what hat are you sporting now?" Aaron took off, moving faster through the crowds than Jason thought was possible. If he didn't know better he'd say he was actually running slightly on the sides of the buildings and objects behind the people crowding along the sidewalk for the parade.

"Dopey!" she said, navigating past a surprised cart vendor and nimbly side-stepping a cast member who was closing a ribbon for the parade that was about to start. The crowd was starting to thicken for the parade. Jason could hear Nicky's breath huffing and knew she had started to run as well. "Nicky a blonde guy by the name of Aaron is headed your way. He's a friend and he'll get there faster than me."

"Okay," Jason heard David crying and he saw red.

"Here's your stop Marta, get that program going now," he said, and she nodded and disappeared down the innocuous alley into the Mothers Station. He didn't even look to see if she was in the right place, he just darted into a store on the left side of the street and began to run.

-Langley, Virginia-

"Ok people what is the update?" The Disney World cameras were up all over the screens, images of Nicky Parsons and son being flashed around the room and her location given to the agents in the park.

"I think we're going to have a successful grab this time folks, don't screw it up now," Vosen said. "Stay focused!"

Byer ignored him and concentrated on the screens. "She's trying to get to the exit."

"She's not going to make it," Dita said with some satisfaction. "Team 2 is coming in from Tomorrowland and she will run right into them even if she stays ahead of Team 1, and we know Bourne was at the conference. There's no way he could be there by now."

"Have we heard from the asset again?"

"No, but police radio has been lit up over car accidents and a possible car chase—he has to be in the middle of all of that."

"Ok, give me the exact position of Team 2 please. I want no more fuck ups. Video, the whole lot. And let's try to minimize the disruption please, we don't need a hundred YouTube videos of an apparent single mom being manhandled, you got that? That is Jason Bourne's son, you can bet he's going to want him back," Byer allowed one corner of his mouth to turn up at that. _Imagine that, little Nicky Parsons managed to conceal a kid from the agency for five years._ Blood will tell: she was John Parsons' kid, and stories of his exploits as a field agent were legendary. Too bad he'd been convinced she was a major reason that scandal had enveloped his pride and joy, the agency he'd slaved at for his whole career. The DNA results had been muddy at first, but the re-run had been clean, with no stutter peaks or doubt—Nicky Parsons had given birth to Jason Bourne's son. What a gift.

-Main Street, Disney World-

Aaron vaulted over tables at the restaurant, ignoring the cries from the restaurant workers. The decorative gardens were an easier path to the target, and he leapt out from behind a tree and nearly scared Nicky to death.

"Nicky, I'm Aaron," Aaron grabbed her and patted David on the back. "It's okay," he told him, spotting the team approaching. "My nephew has asthma, we need to get through!" he shouted, and the cast members that were about to chew their asses and report them to security instantly turned to help them get through the crush of people waiting for the parade.

"Ma'am, we have a medical station right by the fire house at the end of Main. There's a nurse ready to assist you and we can provide transportation to a hospital if necessary," said a clean-shaven cast member wearing the uniform of a Main Street shop. David was so upset that he was as pale as chalk, so it was not difficult to believe that this was a kid in the middle of a severe asthma attack.

"Thank you," said Nicky, while Aaron checked the impeded progress of the grab team.

"We need to move faster," he said urgently, spotting Jason as he came sprinting through the last store. "Let him through, he's the dad!" he said to a cast member before Jason disabled the guy.

"Are you okay?" Jason asked Nicky, patting David on the back, "It will be okay bud, I'm right here like I promised." He spotted the pair of agents that were worming through and turned to the cast member that was leading them through the sidewalk—"Wouldn't it be faster to go through the stores?" The guy blinked and said, "Yeah, you're right! This way!" and talked into his walkie-talkie. They curved into the stores and the store staff was lined up to clear a quick path right through to the fire station at the far end. Even better, they were keeping curious tourists from following them, causing a glut of looky-loos to build up behind them and further slow down the team.

"Hey, my wife is in the Mothers Station, I need to go get her and our baby. Can someone help us get back to my brother here?" Aaron said, meeting Jason's eyes. They both knew there were more teams.

"Absolutely sir. Marie, can you please radio the mothers station for…" he looked at Aaron expectantly for a name, "Joanna Swales," he nodded and repeated, "Joanna Swales, then escort this guest and his family to the fire house ASAP for medical? Thank you."

Aaron nodded to Jason and departed swiftly with the cast member. The efficiency of the Disney machine was impressive, as he allowed himself to be herded straight across Main Street and into the Mothers Station, where he met Marta's anxious gaze and rubbed the 'baby' on the top of the fuzzy head. "David is having an asthma attack, they're taking us to him now," he told her, then asked the cast member, "Can we hurry, please? I'm worried about our nephew."

Jason could see that the grab team was now trying a different strategy and had engaged a security supervisor in conversation, which meant they had two minutes before the friendly help was going to turn a 180. He met Nicky's eyes and she knew it, too.

"I just love Disney," Nicky said breathlessly, which had the young cast member standing a bit straighter with pride as he delivered them to the fire house. David was peeking out at all the Disney cast members who were giving him encouraging looks and smiles, and he began to feel a bit better. "It's going to be ok, bud," Jason said.

-Langley, Virginia-

"What the hell just happened to the cameras?" Byer shouted. "Where is the camera feed?"

"I don't know sir. Their whole system just crashed."

"Where is the team?"

"They were held up by the Disney cast members—Parsons got help." The man listened to his earpiece. "Cross and Bourne showed up."

Eric Byer's face was a blank. Only those who knew him very well would see the rage he buried deep. He picked up a headset and barked, "Follow them! I don't care what it takes, you get after them NOW."

"Team 1 is engaged with the Disney staff now, sir. They should be through momentarily."

"Engage the asset. I want to know where he is and what is going on."

-Fire House, Main Street, Disney World-

"We have to go, now," Jason said urgently in a low voice, then rummaged through his backpack, "I will get the emergency inhaler, David, don't worry."

"Mom, why were those men chasing us?"

The nurse was taking David's vital signs and didn't feel a thing as he injected her with a sedative that took instant effect. Aaron and Marta crossed the threshold and Aaron swiftly turned to thank their escort, blocking the view of Jason laying the woman out on the examining table.

"Thank you so much," he said, "I'm sure he'll be fine once we can get his medication into him."

David was distracted by the nurse falling asleep in front of him, which Nicky hastily explained, "Some people have a medical condition called narcolepsy…they fall asleep anywhere, at any time." Nicky glanced at Marta. "Hi, Nicky Parsons."

"Marta Shearing," they shook hands quickly. "Nice to meet you." Nicky turned to the door, where Aaron was watching the hall. "Thank you Aaron." Aaron nodded and he and Jason exchanged a few words.

"Better to drop them here than in the street."

"Did you see the other teams?" Jason asked, and Aaron nodded. "Second team was on the other side of the street, but further back. Less than two minutes for them to work through unless they also engage the staff."

"But she seemed to be talking…" David returned to the topic that fascinated him, a lady falling asleep mid-sentence. The first team entered through the door separating the lobby from the clinic with two Disney security members behind.

"Stay," Aaron said to Marta. Nicky needed no instructions, placed David down behind the exam table and handed him her phone with Angry Birds opening up. "Play for a sec, hon, then we're going to go."

Jason was already engaged with the first agent, Aaron was on the second. Jason fought dirty, stabbing the agent with the syringe in the forearm and taking him down with the split second of surprise where the guy wondered if he'd just been tranquilized.

Aaron grabbed a stiff reed from the decorative dried flower arrangement in the oversized jar on the floor and poked #2 in the eye with it, then delivered a swift punch with his right. Jason swiftly moved past Aaron who had just incapacitated the second agent and dislocated the Disney guard's shoulder, ignoring his howl of pain and knocked him out with his handgun. Aaron turned to the second guy who put up his hands and said, "Whoa, I know when to step away, dude. No job is worth this."

Jason aimed at the guard and Aaron said, "Call it in, all cleared up."

"No problem, right now," he pushed the button on his headset, "Code Green, situation resolved. Repeat, Code Green, situation resolved."

"Thanks," Jason said, then knocked him out. Both he & Aaron stripped the radios & earpieces from the team.

Marta had looked out into the hall in the silence, Nicky was already pulling David up, who had lifted his head up a few times at the noise but was trying to figure out exactly how the blue birds worked.

"Mom! Whoa…" his eyes were huge at the sight of the men on the floor.

"That's what happens when people don't play nicely," Jason said, then picked him up. "Let's go."

They made their way past the front desk cast member, a nice-looking young lady that in a normal person would have caused some twinge of guilt for the necessity of knocking her out. "Just needed his inhaler! Thanks!" Jason called as they headed out the door for the park exit, the sounds of the approaching parade filling the speakers. "Are those people dead?" David asked.

"No, I try not to do that. They will have headaches but they will all be fine," Jason assured him. Aaron had tucked his arm around Marta's waist to steer her in the right direction. She still had Faux Baby on, but he could tell she had completely forgotten about it because she kept looking over her shoulder.

"We'll spot them first," Aaron assured her, himself and Jason doing their own synchronized sweeps as they hustled toward the transportation hub.

"Which tram?" Nicky asked.

"Boat," Aaron and Jason said simultaneously.

"Go for Gold then. We have a choice of two resorts and avoid passing under any bridges," Nicky advised.

At Aaron's raised eyebrow, Jason said, "She's my former logistics agent."

-Langley, Virginia-

"The asset reported in. Bourne and Cross wrecked his car and his phone, he's called in from an ambulance."

"Send him after them at Disney World."

"That was the BACK of an ambulance. He's got a significant leg wound, sir. Probably needs surgery—he had to use a tourniquet. Sounds like they got a femoral artery."

"Damn it!" Eric said, "Send in Peregrine. Now."

"Put Teams 3 and 4 in vehicles. Give me a map of the entire property," Dita commanded. She studied the access roads briefly, then commented, "There aren't that many places they can go, if we can get a visual we can get Peregrine in the right place."

Zev was whistling a tune to himself, which started a couple of people chuckling. Eric wheeled around, demanding, "What's so damn funny, Zev?"

"Oh, you know, Disney World—'It's a Small World After All'. I just appreciate the irony."

"I'm sure you'll really appreciate the irony from your new post in Greenland. Now wipe that smile off your face and figure out what their next move is. We've now got five people to track who are working together, and one of them is a small boy."

"Oh, you mean they look just like the millions of other families there, then," Arthur said. "They could go boat, monorail, bus, car—all of which are accessible from the main gate. We need ten times as many people at each of these points, now." He pointed to all the resorts, parking lots, and bus stops. "That's not including the off-property hotel shuttles, of course."

Eric glared at him. "Where is Team 2?"

"They have a visual on them—they're heading for a boat," Dita said.

"Let her fly," Eric said, folding his arms and turning back to the screen.


	7. Chapter 7

"They won't make this launch," Nicky said as they crossed the walkway to the launch with another twenty or so tourists and Jason put David down. The boat captain was already in position and throttling up. "The boats are slower, I assume you know that? Good."

Jason and Aaron both watched the other team and listened to the comm link. "They changed the frequency…"

"Try 4+2-" said Aaron, hearing the slight remodulation.

"Got it."

"Why are you here?" David asked Marta, holding Nicky's hand. "I don't like it when people chase us."

Marta gave him a half-smile and rubbed the goosebumps on her arm. "I don't like it either. You can call me Marta."

"_Doctor_ Marta," Nicky half-corrected automatically. She would have preferred to use her last name but under the circumstances it didn't seem prudent. They had taken interior seats, grateful for the fading light that made them blend in with the other passengers. All of them kept rummaging through their bags on the floor, keeping as much of their bodies out of view as possible.

"You're a doctor? Can you make people better?"

Marta's irony meter pinged. "Yes, I make them a lot better, David. That's why I'm here."

While David was breaking the ice, Aaron and Jason briefly conferred. "Vehicles—I count four teams. You?"

"Plus one."

"We need to split up."

"I'll take Marta to the Polynesian, it will take longer but we can move faster once we dock."

Jason nodded. "I'll be going for a midsize SUV, I'll let you know the make once I get it. Nicky, give Aaron your phone & headset please." She passed the equipment to him, already having taken the Bluetooth earpiece out and plugged in a wired set instead.

"Ditto. The asset will be out of commission—that was a hard bleed on his quadricep." Aaron had the wire snaked under his shirt and the earbud in his left ear in record time.

"That's why the plus one," Jason said. They exchanged looks. Both were still listening to the CIA feed. "Grouping near the car care center, three teams."

"What about the boy?" Aaron asked, nodding to David, whom Marta was entertaining with Faux Baby. Nicky was studying a map of the park again on the tablet.

"I'm going to suit him up and do my damnedest," Jason replied.

"How old is he?"

"I don't know exactly," Jason replied grimly. "Ah, okay," said Aaron.

The launch was docking now, and the unloading zone was clear. As Jason hustled Nicky & David off the launch in the middle of the rest of the tourists, Aaron turned to Marta and said, "This is about to go nuclear, so if you're going to throw up, do it now." She stiffened her spine, shook her head and said, "I wouldn't give you the satisfaction Aaron Cross."

"That's my girl," he said, hustling them toward the parking lot in front of the resort as soon as the launch docked.

Jason and Nicky cruised through the Grand Floridian resort as quickly as possible without attracting attention to themselves. David was piggybacking on Jason, which kept his face out of the cameras. Jason helped himself to a large stuffed Mickey and child's booster seat from a passing luggage cart with the attendant pulling it none the wiser, and then they were at the parking lot closest to the convention center, which was hosting nothing. Jason found exactly what he was looking for: a BMW X5. While Nicky buckled David in the center seat, Jason slid a vest over his arms and made a quick modification to the Goofy hat. "Keep that on no matter what, ok?" he said, then buckled into the driver's seat, sliding the belt through an arm loop of his backpack. "And hold onto Mickey, we're going to play a game with him." He met the miniature version of his eyes in the rear view mirror and nodded to Nicky, "Ready?"

"Yep," she said, tablet in her lap with the map and her own handgun. "Forget that, get out the Glock with 40 caliber rounds." Jason answered his phone, "Red Cayenne," said Aaron, "headed for the rodeo."

"Dark blue BMW X5, looks like four now," Jason turned onto Seven Seas Drive and saw the Cayenne ahead.

"Here's our new friend," Aaron said as a gold Acura MDX slammed into the rear of the Porsche as he turned onto World Drive. "Killer Barbie, kinky." Marta turned to get a glimpse of the woman behind the wheel. "She looks like my high school prom queen."

"Maybe she is," Aaron said, meeting Marta's eyes briefly. They were both slammed forward against the seatbelts again. "You coming to the party anytime soon, Bourne?"

Jason sped up, telling David, "Here's the game: throw Mickey to the side I tell you, ok?" David nodded and Jason yelled, "Right!" and he hard cornered behind the Acura. Nicky leaned out the window and took some shots at the rear tires, hitting one but not puncturing it. Marta got off a shot but Aaron pulled her back in quite quickly as Barbie fired back.

"That got her attention," Jason said as she braked hard and dropped back behind them. The blonde raked the back of the car with gunfire aimed at their own tires. "Metal tire guards," Jason said with satisfaction, while Aaron said, "Sorry Barbie. Time to change it up," and took the Cayenne straight across the grassy median into oncoming traffic. "Left David!" The boy giggled as he bounced against the soft toy, adding an oddly jarring note as the asset wheeled hard and raked Nicky's side of the car with the front of the Acura. Jason corrected hard right, compensating perfectly for the reintroduction to pavement.

"You forgot to tell me right!" David said from the back.

"Sorry buddy," Jason said, prompting Nicky to add, "I'll help, ok David?"

Another round of gunfire peppered the rear of the car. "Four ahead," Nicky said.

"I'm taking point, Cross," as he zipped past on the shoulder.

"Front, David!" Nicky yelled as Jason crunched through the rear of the sideways sedan. She took out an agent who was aiming at their car instinctively, a split second decision. "Oh God."

"Keep it, Nicky, for later," Jason said cryptically, "Left!" as he cut down the access road onto Vista Boulevard, scattering oncoming traffic like dominoes. He didn't miss Aaron taking out two more agents behind them as he punched through the hole Jason had made, the Acura hanging in there like a flea.

The road was curving now which helped discourage accuracy on the part of Barbie, who was firing when possible at both of them. "Nicky, now would be a good time to take out one of those front tires," Jason said, then "Right!" as he crossed the median again and Aaron drew even next to him. "Right again," said Aaron as he pulled in, and Jason yelled "Right!" and whipped the car right. Nicky had started to fire on the Acura as they turned but Jason heard the pops and knew she had been hit.

"Ow!" David's voice sent a frisson of fear right to his heart. "Something banged my head," he complained. "It stings!"

"Nicky," Jason looked over at her, there was a bloom at her shoulder, and it was spreading fast. "Nicky's been hit, David too but he's okay," he told Aaron.

"Marta, I think you're going to be putting your skills to use pretty soon, so don't get winged now, please," Aaron said. "Forget about the tires, it's about to become irrelevant—Bourne, I'm taking the parking lot detour. Barbie is about to get a hot wax."

"Jason," Nicky's voice was shaky, shock was setting in.

"Here, wrap this around it Nicky, TIGHT!" Jason tossed the sweatshirt from the bag to her, relieved to see that she was getting decent pressure on it by twisting the arms.

"Is Mom okay? Mom, are you okay?" David's voice was worried. "What happened?"

"I'm okay," she mumbled, "I'm okay," wiping the blood from her left hand on her jeans and waving it briefly at David. "You never told me how much this hurts," she whispered.

Jason put her hand on the wheel and leaned out the window while Barbie was firing at Aaron's Cayenne, which was now speeding through the adjacent lot. He took out the tire and bloomed her good on her shoulder and popped back in the car before she could return fire. She didn't flinch from the shot.

"Cold bitch isn't she?" commented Aaron, crossing through the plant bed and back across the oncoming lane and median.

"You're telling me," Jason said, eyeing the approaching intersection, parking lot, and taking a split second look at the satellite map on Nicky's tablet. "What she needs, Cross, is a good poke in the ass."

"On it."

Jason punched the gas and shot ahead, zipping to the right into the last parking lot before the intersection with the 535. Aaron braked and let the Acura pass him out, then rammed her hard into the parked semis. She corrected and wheeled back, sticking doggedly to the BMW with Aaron right behind.

"Hard right!" The BMW skidded through the dirt and Jason turned the wheels hard left, narrowly missing the house and heading straight for the light pole. He turned left at the last second and Aaron drove the Acura right into the pole, skittering off to the side with a good crunch to the driver's side.

"Drive away from that," Aaron said as they both sped up the dirt road and hooked onto the 535, Barbie's head still buried in the airbag.

-Langley, Virginia-

"Did I just see our asset take aim at a child in a car?" Vosen demanded. "What the hell do you think you're doing, Byer?"

"My job," he replied coldly. "Collateral damage happens, Noah."

"Not when we pull the strings on the puppet, Eric! Not if we can help it, and we can damn well help it! She hasn't aimed at Bourne once!"

The eyes of all the agents in the room were fixed on him, and Byer knew he was on the losing side of the argument. He saw the video feed abruptly terminate and said, "She's out of it now, anyway. Dita, see about retracting her and let the program manager know the training methods or meds must be off."

Vosen was livid and Byer knew it was not something he was going to drop. He nodded him out of the room and said, "Cool it, Vosen, we all know things happen in the heat of an operation that no one intends. If the child was hurt Bourne would have stopped the car and shot her himself, not crashed her car."

"That may very well be, Eric, but I'll be damned if I'm going to let my team be hung out to dry for your untested program assets. You want to hunt down a five year old child, you get your own special permission from Kramer. Until then, you leash your dogs!"

Eric nodded coolly and they walked back into the room. Vosen exchanged glances with Wills, and Dita nodded to Byer.

"All right people, let's pull some satellite feeds and see if we can find those cars," Noah said with a grimace. "Gracie, get me some fresh coffee—this is putrid dreck. See if you can find some decent Starbucks, ok?"

"Peregrine just called in. She needs medical and a fresh vehicle," Arthur said.

"Pull her," Eric replied, his cold gaze masking more than irritation as he left the room. Dita noticed that Wills followed soon after.

-Highway 4 North, Orlando, FL-

"Aaron, we have a problem," Jason glanced at David in the rear view mirror, he was rubbing his head under the cap and sneaking glances at Nicky.

"Nicky?" Aaron said, exchanging a glance with Marta.

"Yep. She needs Marta now." Jason's voice was as calm as he could make it, but Aaron picked up on the worry underneath it.

"And we need a new ride," Aaron finished, exiting swiftly at signs for the convention center with Jason right behind. "Can she be stabilized?"

Jason looked at Nicky's pale face and the stain that was spreading under the sweatshirt. Her hands were not applying as much pressure, so he leaned over and applied it himself. "Yes," he answered in a clipped tone, knowing that David was listening to every word.

"Hang in there, we'll be right over."

They both parked and Marta quickly exited the car and made for the passenger side of the X5.

"What's going on? Mom?"

"Let's go find a new car, David," Jason said, unbuckling his son swiftly and grabbing the booster. "You hold Mickey, Mom is fine. Dr. Marta is helping her now."

"Nicky, let me see it," Marta peeled away Nicky's hands and frowned at the gush, then quickly clamped back down and barked, "Aaron, bandages now," taking them from his hands as he grabbed them from her bag and swiftly constructing a very tight compression bandage. She met his eyes and said, "She needs fluids and surgery."

"You can do it?" Aaron asked, his blue eyes locking on her brown ones. His tone was supportive, encouraging.

"Yes."

"Then let's do it," he said, grabbing Jason's and Nicky's bags.

"I'll help move her," Jason said, springing out from the driver's side of a green Suburban.

"Hi David, your mom is going to be just fine, ok?" Aaron said as he opened the rear passenger door and tossed the backpacks in. "Marta is going to sit with her, but she'll be right next to you. Hold her hand, that would make her feel better." David nodded solemnly, his eyes huge.

"Come on babe, you still haven't taught me how to cook eggs properly," Jason said as he gently helped Marta walk Nicky over to the car. Nicky gave him a weak smile, said, "Hi hon," to David and slumped against the seat while he buckled her in. "Get as much of this in her as possible," he said to Marta, passing her a bottle of clear fluid from his pack. Aaron grabbed his and Marta's bags and slid into the passenger seat.

"It's a Sunday. Vet?" Aaron asked, and Jason nodded. "I'll find it." He started looking on his phone as Jason hit the 4 again.


	8. Chapter 8

-Bald Head Island, North Carolina-

"Please stop pacing Meredith. We came here to unplug and try to forget about our worries for a few days…why don't you go bake some cookies or something?" he said absentmindedly, his thoughts engaged on the myriad bits of information that had come flooding his way in the past 24 hours.

"John, you just told me yesterday that Nicky has popped up again, after hearing nothing for nearly three years. And now half of your precious agency is trying to kill her! How can you say I should be relaxing?" She had stopped her pacing in shock at the suggestion of pretending things were normal.

"I didn't _tell_ you, you _overheard_; and I certainly wouldn't have told you anything at all because I knew damn well this is precisely how you'd behave!"

"Don't you lecture me like a child, John Adam Parsons! I've been married to you for forty-three years and every single gray hair on my head can be laid at the door of that godforsaken agency!" John looked at her, regal in her anger and reminding him so much of their daughter. This was better, it was better if she was angry instead of maudlin, he thought.

"What could be happening, John?" Meredith was pacing again, "It's the not knowing that kills me…I don't know if I can go through this again." Her blue eyes were anxious as John crossed the room to turn her around and her fingertips unconsciously started to pick at the hairs on her forearm.

"She's not dead, damn it!" he snapped, really wishing he could have a glass of whiskey. He had to keep himself on the straight and narrow now more than ever. He could feel it, the teetering on the brink and it made it the worst possible time for his wife to have a relapse of her own issues. "I've done everything I possibly can to keep her safe, I can't be blamed if the child keeps throwing herself into nasty situations."

"'The Child!' Do you even hear yourself? Don't you blame Nicolette! You're the one who kept pushing her, pushing her in school, never satisfied with her accomplishments, always expecting more. Is it any wonder she followed right after you into that den of cutthroats, you drove her right where you didn't want her to be!"

"Well your bulimia and social perfection didn't help," John snarled. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he said, instantly contrite at being the cause of the stricken expression on his wife's face. The stress was eating away at him, he'd be back on Zoloft if this kept up. He hugged her and rubbed her back. "We're doing what we can, sweetheart; we have to trust that it will right itself in the end." Meredith's gaze was abstracted, her fingernails were digging into her skin. _Just look at us_, he thought to himself as a picture from their wedding day on his desk caught his eye. _Whatever happened to those two kids in love? _And he did still love his wife. He was here, wasn't he? "Start counting the waves, darling, that helps."

"One…two…three…"

John forced his fingers to relax as he gently pulled her hands away from her arms and helped her count. "Four…five…"

-Altamonte Springs, FL-

"Take exit 234, Lakeview Boulevard. Turn right, then left on Park."

"Marta, how are we holding?" Jason asked.

"What blood type are both of you?" she asked. Jason took a deep breath. "O negative."

"O negative," said Aaron.

"You'll need to look after David," Marta said to Jason.

Aaron looked over at Jason. "You don't mind if I give your wife an extra dose of sexy, do you?"

Jason blanched. "Not at all. And she's not my wife."

"She ought to be," said Aaron under his breath. "That help you, Doctor?"

"Good," said Marta with a sigh of relief. "That will help, a lot." Nicky was almost unconscious, David tightly clutching her left hand and petting it. "It's okay Mom," he was saying over and over again.

"Jesus," Jason breathed.

"That wouldn't hurt," said Aaron. "Right on Pecan," and they pulled to the back of a closed veterinary clinic. Aaron had the door open and the alarm off in under 30 seconds, Jason was carrying Nicky in and Marta was right behind him holding David's hand.

"This room," Marta said, then went looking for the autoclave. "I love tidy people," she said distractedly as she found packets of instruments sterilized and ready to be used.

"Aaron, start that-" she turned and saw that he was already into a vein in his arm, hep-lock, tubing, and needle ready for Nicky once the flow was going. "Good."

Jason turned David around and took him back out to the lobby while Marta scrubbed in.

"Is Mom going to be okay?" David's expression was worried and tired—he looked far older than the five years Nicky said he owned. Jason felt like the worst sort of asshole father, his own emotions whirling at hurricane speed. He got down on his knees in front of his son.

"She's going to be just fine. Marta is going to fix her shoulder and Aaron is giving her some of his blood because she lost a lot. But her heart is going strong and she will be feeling much better in about ten minutes, I promise."

"I hate your promises! They don't mean anything! You promised to protect us and ever since you showed up people are chasing us and shooting at us! I hate you! I wish you'd never come back! I don't want you for my dad! I hate you!" His face crumpled as he burst into tears, and Jason hugged him hard and buried his head into David's hair.

"I'm so sorry David," he told him, "cry it all out…hit me, I can take it," as David punched him as hard as he could a few times, then gave up and clung to him.

"We would have been fine if you hadn't shown up…This is all because of you," he sobbed into his chest. Jason just rocked his son and let him cry as the minutes ticked away. He knew exactly how long it had been until Aaron came out, flexing his arm with the band-aid and cotton ball.

"Marta's closing everything back up. Hollow point, messy son of a bitch."

Jason nodded as David sniffed from the center of his chest. Aaron crouched down beside them and said, "Did you hear that David? Your mom is just fine, and Dr. Marta said you can come in and talk to her in a few minutes."

David lifted his head and stood back stiffly from Jason, wrapping his arms around himself. "Yeah, good."

"Let me show you a trick I picked up in Singapore until she's ready," Aaron held out his hand for David's, made eye contact with Jason.

"Thank you," Jason said sincerely, and Aaron nodded back.

"David, have you ever seen the Singapore sling?" as he produced a deck of cards from his pants pocket.

Jason passed through the door into the surgery room over to Nicky. "How is the patient, Doctor Shearing?"

Marta turned around from the tray of bloody instruments she was cleaning. "She's good, still groggy from the anesthesia but I'm really happy with her vitals now."

Jason took Nicky's hand in both of his. "Hey, beautiful, you awake yet?"

Nicky was blinking slowly and her eyes were unfocused, disoriented. He could tell the minute she snapped back, because the first words out of her mouth were, "Where's David?"

"He's outside with Aaron. He's teaching him street card tricks."

She tried to move and groaned. "Hot fire, what the hell is that?" Her eyes met his and softened, which punched Jason in the gut.

"You got clipped by the Barbie asset from hell. Marta just patched you back together." He reached over with his other hand, smoothed the hair from her face.

Marta came over to Nicky's other side and addressed her patient. "It was a messy hollow point bullet. It clipped your subclavian artery and shredded a tendon. You need to keep that arm immobile for at least four weeks and you're probably going to need physical therapy, but you should regain full use of your arm."

"Jesus," Nicky said weakly.

"Yes, because another millimeter up and you'd have been meeting him in person." Her eyes met Jason's briefly, one hundred percent hard-assed M.D. "Whatever you've got planned, Bourne, you'd better include a place where she can stay SAFE and QUIET. Doctor's orders."

"Yes ma'am," he said.

"I'm sorry Jason," Nicky whispered to him as Marta walked away and finished cleaning up.

"No, Nicky," he said fiercely. "I'M the one who is sorry."

He didn't have a chance to say anything else, wasn't sure how to say what needed to be said. The door opened behind him and Aaron came in with David. "This guy was wondering if he could talk to Mom."

Jason leaned down and kissed her, then let go of her hand so David could talk to her.

"Hi sweetheart," Nicky said. "I'm sorry I scared you."

Jason turned and exited the room, Aaron behind him.

"Bourne," Aaron said.

Jason turned around, and Aaron said, "She was aiming for them, not you."

"I know." The look in Jason Bourne's eyes was not one Aaron was going to forget in his lifetime.

"This is not doable without help. Whoever is running the Mattel factory, they are high up in the agency."

Jason nodded. "The only way this ends is to clean it up, and we're going to start with John Parsons."

"Marta's friend the Ukrainian professor knows something too. We'll pay him a visit. Do you know where Parsons Senior is now?" Aaron was already skipping along to the next moves, always five pieces ahead on the chess board.

"Bald Head Island, North Carolina."

"We'll drop you on the way to Maryland," Aaron rubbed the itchy scabbed over wound on his arm. "I thought it was bad running for as long as we have, but you're showing me the wisdom of ending it cleanly."

"Nothing is ever perfectly clean, just tidy." Marta spoke softly from the door, looking at Aaron. He walked over to her and cradled her face under her cheek with his hand, then gently shook her on her arm.

"No, darling, some things _are_ clean," Aaron said as he kissed her, then pulled back. "Don't forget it. It's too important." He saw the spark revive a bit, and kissed her again to keep it there. Jason brushed past them on his way back in to Nicky and David.

-U.S. Capitol building, closed hearing of the Senate Select Committee on Intelligence-

"Thank you for your testimony, Ms. Landy."

Pamela Landy nodded, "Thank you, Senators," and got up from her chair. Her lawyers flanked her as she was escorted from the room to face the mauling mutts of the media. The conversation resumed between the fifteen senators in the room, ebbing and flowing like the tides as each piped up with their opinions after the last two weeks of hearings. Finally judging that everyone felt they had spoken their piece, Charles Sutton interrupted and said, "All right, let's put it on the table—are we returning Pamela Landy to active service at the CIA or not? And if not, are we referring her case to the federal prosecutor?"

One of the senators spoke up quickly, his New England accent sharp. "I think it's pretty clear that she needs to be out on her ear and muzzled to boot."

"She did make a compelling point about the black ops programs," ventured the junior senator from South Carolina.

"Sounds like people are setting up their own little fiefdoms over there, I say we turn her loose and let her keep cleaning house," drawled the Honorable Senator from West Virginia, the country's longest serving senator.

"She deliberately helped a renegade agent! That's treason, no matter how you want to slice it!" barked the senior senator from Washington.

"Now, Julia, no need to be unkind. As her lawyers pointed out, there is no law that she's broken just because the man called her first," replied the West Virginian without any malice.

"Lady and gentlemen, our job is to ensure that the Central Intelligence Agency of this country is operating with the best interests of our citizens at heart. Whatever you think of Ms. Pamela Landy, these hearings show we have reason to believe that that may not be the case. And that, rather than our personal opinions of her actions, ought to be what decides our course of action today." Charles Sutton spoke slowly and deliberately, drawing out his first prolonged commentary so that everyone was paying attention.

"We can't have individuals choosing to go against protocols. The protocols are there for a reason, it's just like the military," contributed Senator Tyvie from Nebraska.

"That is exactly my point," added the senator from New Jersey. "However, I don't want a damn faceless bureaucrat running our country's top intelligence agency, either—I want 'em to show some damn intelligence!"

They all chuckled except the senators from Washington and Massachusetts.

"Well, as the chair of this committee, I think the best way to proceed here is to put it to a vote. Are there any objections?" Senator Sutton paused and stared down the lady from Washington, who looked likely to open to her mouth. He knew they were all heartily sick of the media inquiries about these proceedings and now was the time to put an end to it. "But before I do, let me say that it is not possible to determine the winner of the fight when one of the combatants is removed from the ring. I think we all know what I mean. Now, let's vote…"

And in the end it turned out quite satisfactorily, as far as Charles was concerned. Nine to six, which was a home run for this group. Once he had run the media gauntlet and gotten back to his office, he waved away his assistant, sank down into his desk chair and picked up the phone. "Pamela Landy is back in the game."


	9. Chapter 9

-Interstate 95, Georgia-

"So you didn't know about him," Aaron stole a glance at Jason, who was riding shotgun. Nicky and David were fast asleep in the back seat, Nicky sporting a navy blue sling picked up a medical supply store. Thank God for senior citizens, practically every corner in Florida sported a drugstore, medical supply store, and buffet chain. Marta was still awake, he could hear her occasionally checking Nicky's vitals and fidgeting.

"No," Jason said, tight-lipped. He hated that the headlights still gave him headaches.

"Can I just ask? Because I'm a curious guy. How did you not know you had a son?" Aaron's expression was frank and open.

"She didn't tell me." He didn't elaborate.

"Ah." Aaron could recognize a closed subject when he saw it. "And you've known each other for how long?"

Jason replied, "I think about six years," and clicked on his phone, clearly intending to ignore Aaron.

"You don't know?" his tone was mild but interested.

"I have amnesia. Botched mission, complete disaster…it's still not completely back." Jason was flipping through apps, paged through to one on the tablet.

"When did that happen?" Marta spoke up from the back, professional curiosity getting the better of her. "Because there are therapies that might help…"

"Yeah, I've been rushing to therapists' appointments left right and center," Jason deadpanned. "They all stop wanting to talk to me after I tell them how many people I've killed for the U.S. government."

"Oh, um, yes, I just meant that it might come back…" Marta trailed off, meeting Aaron's eyes as he chuckled and Jason grinned in spite of himself, glad for the injection of humor into a situation that was pretty humorless.

"I know what you meant," Jason said. "It is coming back in bits and pieces. It's just too slow for my taste."

"What are you doing there?" Aaron asked, nodding to Jason's phone and tablet.

"Finishing writing the code for a program that scrambles cell signals within twenty feet."

Aaron raised an eyebrow. "Was that part of your training?"

"No, I picked it up last year."

"You picked it up? You just picked up cell phone programming? How does that work?" Marta was intrigued.

"I took some classes online and learned how to do it," Jason said, swiftly arranging characters, syntax.

"You took classes? That kind of thing takes years—how long did it take you?"

"Three months." Jason finished downloading the app, started it. "You have any signal now, Cross?"

Aaron pulled out his phone and checked the signal bars. "No."

"Good…now look again."

"It's back."

"Wait, three months—what else were you doing at the time?"

"Staying alive," Jason said, turning his head to look at Marta. "I wouldn't be here if I couldn't multi-task."

"That's incredible. Were you a gifted student in school? Photographic memory?"

"No."

"What kind of training did they give you? Because that is really impressive. It's like they created the perfect student. I'd love to see some of your cognitive tests…" her voice trailed off when she realized both Aaron and Jason were looking at her intently. "Or not."

Aaron and Jason exchanged a look. "You can take the scientist out of the lab…" Jason said.

"Don't worry Bourne, I've been her lab rat. She's got quite a nice bedside manner."

"Could have fooled me," he replied, turning his head briefly and meeting her eyes.

"Quiet and rest," Marta said flintily.

"Whoa, haven't seen that side before—I wouldn't want that poking at me either," Aaron quipped.

Jason turned back to his phone. "Looks like Vanessa is going to give us a soaking."

"I'll take it as long as it's not a Cat 4—less work to avoid people when everyone is holed up."

Jason turned back to the weather app, a satellite image of a late season hurricane off the coast of South Carolina in the middle of the screen.

"I hope the Parsons are ready for guests." Aaron said while Jason settled down to catch some sleep.

-Langley, Virginia-

"Damn, it's good to have you back Pam," Tom said as she unpacked her few personal items again on her desk.

"Thanks Tom, but I think we both know we're not out of the woods yet," she said. "I've got a meeting with Kramer and Vosen in fifteen minutes, and I don't think it's to welcome me back to the fold."

"Go get 'em, tiger," Tom said as he popped back out the door. Pam sighed and sat down to get as much information from the file in front of her into her head as she could before facing the lions.

-Southport, North Carolina-

"Good luck, Bournes," Aaron said with a grin and a wink to Nicky as he leaned out the driver's side. Her color was much improved, but she had her hands full with a sullen child who hadn't had any breakfast and wasn't speaking to his father. She had been less than thrilled at the prospect of seeing her parents when Jason had told her in the car this morning. Her attitude resembled that of David's and her cold look to Aaron said as much.

"Don't become another lab rat," Jason retorted, briefly meeting Aaron's gaze, then slung the other arm of the backpack over his shoulder and turned to speak to Marta. "Don't let your scientific curiosity override your need to survive—whatever Hayde has, you can bet the government is interested in it too." Marta nodded and Aaron tipped his sunglasses back down.

"Nice breeze, should make for a fun crossing. Well kids, we're off. Enjoy that home cookin' now." He started pulling away, Marta leaned out the window and said, "Peace and quiet! That's an order!" then rolled up the window as Aaron cruised off.

"Let's go," Jason said, and Nicky nodded stiffly. The cold shoulder from a five year old he could take, but it was annoying to be getting it from Nicky as well. "How's your shoulder?" Jason asked as they walked toward the ferry.

"Sore," she said, and his face softened. "Do you need anything for it?"

She shook her head. "I'm okay for now."

"What about breakfast?" David whined. Jason checked his watch, nodded at Nicky. "Let's get some breakfast to go then," and steered them toward a coffee shop and bakery next to the ferry dock. Shortly they were on the early morning ferry with a few others, David making a huge mess of the chocolate doughnut he had chosen for breakfast. "Whoa bud, you're going to spill your milk," Jason said as he caught it reflexively. Jason scowled and took the milk back, hunching his shoulders as if he could pretend Jason wasn't there. Nicky was sipping her latté and avoiding looking at him. _This can't go on_, he thought to himself. "Nicky," he said, taking her coffee out of her hand and then holding it. "I apologize for not telling you why we have to be here." She finally looked at him now, and the mix of pain, exhaustion, and emotional upheaval ripped at his heart. "I'd rather be shot a thousand times than have you looking at me like that ever again."

"Don't exaggerate, Bourne. You haven't been shot that many times," Nicky replied, looking out the window at the approaching island, a bit of humor dispelling the gloom in her eyes. Jason kissed her softly. "I'm sorry. We'll talk tonight." The boat was docking, the swift journey not too bad despite the noticeable choppiness to the water. Jason helped her up and helped David dispose of their trash.

"Let's go," he said, and Nicky led the way toward her parents' vacation home.

-Langley, Virginia-

"Well, Pam, I guess the intelligence community needs a few rule breakers every now and then," Noah greeted her as she walked into the conference room.

"If preventing the agency from executing U.S. citizens is breaking the rules, then someone has changed the Constitution without telling me."

"Oh please Pam, leave that idealistic jargon for the lawyers. We both know that real decisions about real people are not black and white."

"What I know is that you were going to throw me under the bus for your renegade program full of trigger happy assassins."

"That's enough!" barked Kramer as he entered the room and sat down at the conference table. "Now, you two are both on notice, right now—you're under the microscope. Internal Affairs is talking about sending in the NSA for an independent inquiry over this mess with Jason Bourne and Aaron Cross, you two are deep in shit, and you sit here squabbling like children. You tell me why I shouldn't fire both of your asses right here, right now."

"For a start, you placed Byer on administrative leave for 24 hours due to the incident with the child, and you have no one else who's up to speed to run the search for Bourne and Cross," Pam replied calmly.

Kramer nodded. "Well, Vosen?"

"Well, Pam is absolutely right," Noah said, making eye contact with Pam across the table. "And she doesn't have the knowledge of the black ops programs that I have, which means you need my experience there."

"Duly noted. Now, are you two prepared to work together to find these two? NOT to kill them, but to TALK to them, Vosen," Ezra noted with a frown. "Within reason, of course—if they present a danger to our people, that's another story. Are we clear?"

Both of them said, "Yes, sir."

"So what are your next steps?"

"I suggest we focus on the two people they are protecting. There is a reason that Bourne retrieved Parsons other than their son; and we should expect a similar motivation for Cross to still protect Shearing," Pam said calmly. "We just have to ask ourselves what those reasons may be."

"And we look at the people they have in their background. Since they are back in the States, we can assume they need something here to pursue their agenda," Noah said.

"And what agenda would that be, Noah?" Ezra asked pointedly.

"Well, I still think Bourne is determined to embarrass the agency. He was working with Ross and he is directly responsible for the leak about Blackbriar." Pamela sniffed and looked away from him to Kramer, clearly disgusted with his reasoning.

"That doesn't explain why Cross is involved," she said. "This Project Outcome has a totally different profile of asset than the previous black ops machines. I think it points to a different management style, someone who does not have the best interests of this agency at heart."

"Bourne just went after Cross to get more information about black ops work, just like he did with Daniels and Ross," Noah said disgustedly. "It's perfectly clear to those who want to see it, Pam."

"Well maybe I don't believe that Noah. Perhaps we have do have a problem within our agency, and we had better find it before we have the NSA and FBI crawling up our asses to find it for us."

"Quit the bickering. I want an update in 24 hours, and it had better include the location of either Bourne or Cross," Kramer looked at his watch and stood up. "Get to work," he ordered, and left the room.

-Bald Head Island, North Carolina-

"Nice place," Jason commented, taking in the wraparound porch and weathered grey clapboards. "You ready?"

"No." Nicky pressed the doorbell anyway.

"Who lives here?" David asked.

"Your grandparents," Nicky replied. The weather matched her mood—dark gray clouds scudded across the sky, and the wind was picking up. The smell of ozone was getting stronger and it made her a little nervous, even though she knew the house had weathered more severe storms.

They heard steps coming toward the door. Jason had noted that there were no sidelights, a prudent security precaution. The steps were heavy, meaning it would be John Parsons. The door opened and John took in the sight of his daughter standing there with Jason Bourne and a small boy, a boy holding Nicky's hand tightly, a boy with Jason Bourne's eyes. He did the only reasonable thing a father would do—he punched Jason Bourne in the jaw just as Meredith entered the hall and let out a shriek, then fell dead to the floor in a faint.


	10. Chapter 10

**A couple of author's notes-we will get back to Aaron and Marta, but it's an all day drive from NC to MD, so we're sticking with Jason and Nicky for now. Thank you all for the reviews, they're great! Please note I'm going to try to stick with 2 chapters per day but it's a busy workweek so no promises. The whole story is tumbling through my head, believe me, it's going to come out! And a mandatory disclaimer, this is just for fun...but it would be an awesome movie. (: Thanks!**

-Bald Head Island, North Carolina-

Jason grabbed John Parsons' left hand mid-swing and said, "I let you punch me once because I deserved it, but I'm not going to let you do it again," his grip steely. "Nicky, David, inside. Don't you want to see to your wife?" he said to Parsons, letting his hand go when he saw his body language stand down. John dragged his hand through his hair and went over to Meredith, who was starting to come around on her own.

"John, I told you the stress was getting to me—I could swear I just saw Nicky…"

Nicky rubbed David's shoulder and said, "Hi Mom. Long time no see." She injected an artificially bright tone into her voice, for David's sake if nothing else. They were his only surviving grandparents. Her father turned around to glare at her and her mom sat up quickly. "Oh my heavens, it IS Nicky! Nicolette, I'm so happy you're home!" She stopped when she saw David peeking out behind Nicky's legs. "Oh my God." Meredith stopped talking and stared, finally noticing the man standing there with them, the man with the same eyes as the little boy.

"Yes, thank you for coming home, Nicolette, and bringing a goddamn manhunt to my doorstep," John thundered, and Nicky cringed a bit.

Jason noticed and swiftly pulled John Parsons to his feet. "Maybe we should let them talk while you and I have a private conversation," he said, escorting Parsons to what appeared to be his office. He let him shake his arm free but he knew the message was clear. He closed the door behind him and said, "I wouldn't do that if I were you," when Parsons made for his desk and phone. "In the interest of full disclosure, I have no intention of hurting you or your wife, but I'm not going to stand back and watch you treat Nicky like she's a damn disobedient dog." Parsons paused for a second.

"Your daughter is an amazing woman with a spine of steel. She deserves better than that for crossing your doorstep."

"What happened to her?" he barked, but his tone was less antagonistic.

"She was shot by an asset yesterday in Orlando." Jason crossed both of his arms and assumed a guarded stance, watching Parsons as he started to pace. He gave him marks for not asking how that had happened.

"Why the hell did you go after her in Switzerland?" he stopped and asked, sizing Jason up.

Jason was not in the least surprised that Parsons had known where Nicky was. "That's my business, not yours," he replied evenly, "Why did you leave her there?"

John ignored his question. "Why are you here?" he said, meeting Jason's eye.

"We both know you're not retired," Jason met Parsons' gaze unflinchingly. "And I'm tired of chickenhawk desk jockeys pretending they know what they're doing with black ops agents, making decisions about international 'situations' that happen to result in the agency's best being mowed down like bothersome weeds."

"You mean you're tired of running," Parsons retorted.

"I could run for the rest of my life and I guarantee that you would never catch me," Jason said with quiet confidence. Parsons seemed taken aback at that, and Jason continued, "However, as long as I am out, I am the convenient scapegoat for every poor decision. As far as I can see, the only way to end that is to come back in and help you clean up."

"What makes you think I'm cleaning up?" John said, assessing Bourne for the first time without the cloudiness of his emotions over his daughter and newly unveiled grandson.

"Because you know that is the only way Nicky can come back in, too." Jason tossed the Goofy hat out of his bag onto the desk. "You might also consider why the agency's newest star black ops program is training its people to deliberately aim at five year old children."

John blanched as he picked up the hat, found the hole and Kevlar underneath with the bullet fragments still in it. He sat down hard at his desk. "I need to think about this."

"Do." Jason said, his eyes blazing.

"Well, this is really something," Meredith beamed at David on her kitchen stool, patted Nicky on her good shoulder. "I've seen a lot of things blown in here by storms, but this is the best yet." She smiled and turned back to her freezer. "I've got some cookie dough in here, let's see if we can get some baked now before the power goes out."

"I like cookies," David said, chugging his milk as he watched his new grandma. She seemed nice.

"Of course you do, dear," she said warmly. _God, she's practically sparkling_, Nicky thought cynically. She sighed and rubbed her neck, the tension headache that had been building since they stood on the porch threatening to explode.

"We have a generator, Meredith," John said grumpily as he and Jason walked into the kitchen. Jason walked over to Nicky and rubbed her neck, causing Nicky to look at him gratefully and lean into him. John didn't miss the body language, and was certain Bourne was doing it deliberately as he caught his eye. _Fair enough, young man, but I'm still her daddy_, he thought.

"How come you've never come to visit us? And why don't we have any pictures of you?" David asked thoughtfully. "If you have grandparents, they're supposed to come see you and stuff."

Three of them looked at each other awkwardly, but Meredith Parsons was in her element. "Oh honey, if everything was like it is on TV, we'd be able to eat whatever we wanted and never gain any weight. But that is not the way things are, so we just have to do the best we can with *today*. Would you like to spend time with your grandparents today?"

"Yeah," he said hopefully.

"You know, I think these are _sugar _cookies. That means I need you to help me cut them out. Do you want to pick out the shapes with me?" She held out her hand to David and he hopped off the stool.

"Sure!"

"Shall we?" John opened his hand toward the living room, as they were decidedly not invited to the cookie party. Jason looked to Nicky who met his eyes briefly, then replied, "Sure." As she walked by, John stopped her with his hand and said, "Welcome home," then gave her a gentle hug.

"Thanks, Dad." Nicky squeezed her eyes shut to keep the sudden tears in.

-Langley, Virginia-

"Where is the last known location of Bourne & Cross?" Pam asked.

"Orlando, Florida—we lost them at Disney World," Wills replied.

"What happened there? Weren't there more teams in play?" she asked, studying the map of the resort.

"There were, but we guessed wrong as to where they were headed," another logistics wonk explained.

"Guessing? Noah, do you have a crop of fresh-outs here or something?" she turned to Noah, who shrugged cynically. "Byer was calling the shots with his team, we were the supporting players at that stage. You know how it goes." She thought for a minute, setting that aside to analyze later.

"Yeah, I know that goes." Pam felt a sudden sympathy for Noah who had found himself in exactly the same position she had been in with him. She squelched it and asked, "So they probably headed north. Let's look for connections to Parsons or Shearing. I want every connection in the South mapped out within thirty minutes…yes, even John Parsons! If Jason Bourne was able to break into a CIA office in New York, he's not going to be intimidated by an ex-agent." She enjoyed the squirm she saw on Noah's face at that, knowing full well that it was _his_ office that Bourne had broken into.

"Wills, did you have any luck at going through the list of conference attendees from Florida?" Vosen asked his number two.

"Yes, sir, we found Dr. Shearing has close associations with several professors at labs scattered along the eastern seaboard and at Stanford," he held up a print-out. "We're cross-checking for academic progeny now."

Noah and Pam exchanged a look. "What do you mean Wills?"

Tom Cronin spoke up. "Well, in academia the students of professors tend to stick closely with their former advisors and fellow students—so the network is pretty tight. If we can find someone that has multiple links to Marta Shearing, they are more likely to help her even with the stories that have been planted."

"That's good, I like that angle. Run with it." Pam turned to Noah. "How about some lunch?"

He looked surprised. "Um, yeah, sure."

"I'll just grab my purse then," Pam said, while Cronin and Wills exchanged looks. Noah cleared his throat, "All right people, we'll expect an update when we get back. Get on it!"

-Bald Head Island, North Carolina-

Nicky and Jason took the rest of the morning bringing her dad up to date on the events of the past few days. In Nicky's case, she shared a bit of the past few years. Jason was not very surprised, having guessed at much of what Nicky had left unsaid when they talked. John Parsons, on the other hand, was shocked at some of what she said, even if he concealed it very well. Jason was assessing him, partly because he was trained to do so but also because he was beginning to get a much better understanding of the Parsons family dynamic, and how it had shaped Nicky and her choices. They kept their voices low and the occasional giggle could be heard from the kitchen. Finally they were interrupted by David coming in with one of his creations, topped with every kind of sprinkle that Meredith had.

"Mom! Dad! Look at this! It's even got _dinosaur sprinkles_!" He waved the star-shaped cookie around, sending colored sugar all over the floor.

"Wow!" Nicky said. "How does it taste?"

"Dinosaur sprinkles? This I have to see," Jason said, noting that he was apparently back in his son's good graces. They both made the appropriate "ooo's" and "ahhh's" over the cookie, and the rest which Meredith brought in on a plate. "Try one, they're really good," David said through a mouthful of cookie.

"Don't talk with your mouth full," Nicky reminded him, and took a cookie. Jason and John both took one, but neither one ate it, not that David noticed.

John cleared his throat. "I'd better get the storm shutters up outside."

"I'll help you," Jason said. What went unspoken was that neither one trusted the other, so it was an arrangement that suited them both.

"I'd love a hot bath," Nicky said, prompting exactly the response that she expected from her mom.

"You go right on up and have one, Nicolette. David and I would like to find something to watch on Netflix, don't we David?" He grinned and nodded. "Yeah, Mom, I want to watch something with Grandma." Nicky felt bemused, it was like a pod person had taken over her mother. "Um, okay."

Jason and John got all of the storm shutters installed as the wind spun up. The power went out and they got the generator going through the rain, then went inside.

"I've noticed that my cell phone doesn't seem to be working," John commented darkly, looking at Jason.

"And it won't as long as we're here," he promised, "I can guarantee it."

John scowled and said, "You said you needed my help."

"That doesn't mean 'your help, your way'," Jason replied.

"Do you have any idea how long I have been working this operation? And how close you are to fucking it up permanently?" John said with quiet heat.

"I don't give a crap how long you've been setting it all up, you didn't plan it well enough to keep your daughter and grandson out of the path of the collateral damage. As far as I'm concerned, your decision making is pretty poor." Jason stood up from taking off the borrowed rain boots, a bit of his anger showing now.

"You're a fine one to talk. Leaving my daughter to raise your child, threatening her, putting her in the line of danger—you're no specimen of planning yourself," John knew his barb had hit home from the brief wrinkle on Bourne's forehead and slight darkening of his pupils.

"I had amnesia, which is more than you can say for the way you drove your own daughter away from you to such an extent that she would rather die in a far corner of the globe than ask you for help," Jason retorted.

"Am I interrupting something?" Nicky asked from the door of the mudroom. "Because I certainly hope I am." She looked at both of them. "Dinner is ready." Jason looked his fill—she looked amazing. She was wearing a borrowed pair of flowing silk trousers, a silky top, and her arm was in a Hermès scarf sling. "Mom's idea," she explained, aware that the vein in her dad's temple was throbbing over the way Jason was eating her up with his eyes. _Good_, she thought. "Shall we?"

Dinner passed relatively uneventfully, Meredith filling it with nonsensical chatter. She got John to tell David some knock-knock jokes, and skillfully maneuvered herself into being the one to put David to bed, David only insisting on a kiss good night from Nicky.

"She's something else, isn't she?" John said, a brief note of admiration in his tone. Meredith came back downstairs and asked if anyone wanted coffee.

"No thank you," Jason said.

Nicky spoke up. "Jason, Dad, we're in the middle of a hurricane. The landlines are down, there is no cell phone coverage, and unless you both agree not to try to contact anyone, you will both end up staring at each other all night. Can I please see you shake hands and agree that tonight we will ALL sleep, NO ONE will attempt to contact anyone, even by carrier pigeon…" she looked at her father knowingly, "and tomorrow morning we will ALL talk about what happens next, ok?"

"But dearie, your father is retired. He wouldn't contact anyone, would you John?"

Jason blinked and Nicky resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "Just do it, please, Dad," she looked at her father who nodded gruffly in acknowledgement and stood up. "Jason?"

"Fine," he said, walking over to shake John's hand.

"Good. Good night Mom," she leaned down to kiss her mom's cheek. "Good night Dad," followed by an awkward hug, then she took Jason's hand and looked meaningfully at her father. "Good night."

"What was that about?" Jason asked as they made their way upstairs. Nicky led him into the guest room and kissed him hotly as soon as the door closed.

"I wanted him to know that you're sleeping with me," she said, kissing him again and trying to pull his shirt out of the waistband of his trousers with her good hand.

"We have a five year old child. I think he knows that I'm having sex with you."

"Yes, but knowing it _was_ happening is quite different from knowing it is _still_ happening," Nicky explained between kisses on his jaw while he kissed and sucked on her ear, helped her successfully divest him of his shirt. He gently held her face, kissed her deeply for a good few minutes, then asked "Nicolette Parsons, are you using me in some sort of teenage revenge against your father in his own house?"

"Yes," she said breathlessly as his hands snaked up her blouse to discover she was bra-less.

"I'm in."


	11. Chapter 11

-Earlier that day, Langley, Virginia-

"So, Pam, care to tell me what this is about?" Noah asked, folding his hands as the waiter took their menus away.

Pam sipped her water and set it back down. "What do you mean, Noah?"

"You know damn well what I mean. I'm far from your favorite person, so why are we 'doing lunch' like we're best buddies?"

"Oh, let's not be coy, Noah. I hate your guts and everything you stand for," Pam smiled sweetly, folding her hands as well.

"Well, that's a bit harsh, isn't it, Pam? We do work on the same team."

"Do we? Sometimes I wonder."

"Just because I don't see the world through rose-colored glasses does not make me your enemy. But that is beside the point."

"For once I agree with you. Tell me about Byer."

"Oh-ho, someone that the vaunted Pamela Landy knows nothing about! Maybe if you hadn't been so determined to keep your nose clean you'd have come across him before," Noah jabbed, enjoying her momentary ignorance. "Eric Byer is a floating agent. He's been associated with internal affairs, the NSA, even the Bureau. He's the ultimate cleaner."

"What's his background?"

"Retired USAF colonel. He was involved in some clean-up work in Afghanistan, Iraq…anywhere something is threatening to blow up and embarrass U.S. interests."

"Why wasn't he brought in on Bourne?"

Noah broke off as their lunches arrived. "Salads. How terribly healthy of us." He sighed. "Sometimes I just want an artery clogging steak and fries."

"Then get it sometime. You can have it with the pickle you keep up your ass." Pam grinned slightly to take away the sting and Noah nodded at the hit. They both ate a few more bites of their salads, then Noah continued.

"Nobody thought Bourne was capable of really damaging agency interests until Ross and New York. By then he had vanished again."

_That's a cryptic ending_, Pam thought to herself. "So why wasn't Byer called in to find him?"

Noah looked up. "Pam, his nickname is Agent Napalm. Whatever the guy touches turns to ash. Anything and everything associated with it is wiped, gone. Now you tell me, can you think of a few people who wouldn't want to see that happen?"

"Parsons," she said.

"Parsons." Noah smirked. "Complicated in shades of grey, isn't it?" Pam briefly considered whether he was making a pass at her, then remembered that he probably only read files or Chickenhawk Weekly, and likely had no idea of the innuendo that turn of phrase now contained.

She sat back in her chair and folded her napkin in her lap. "Shit."

-Interstate 95, Virginia-

"So what is your preference for lunch? Cracker Barrel? Bojangle's? Hardee's?" Aaron asked, breaking into Marta's thoughts. She was reading journal article after journal article on her Blackberry, looking for clues as to what to expect in Jude's lab.

"What? Oh, I don't care," she said distractedly.

"I get my pick of deep fried goodness? Great, I go for Hardee's fried chicken." Aaron pulled into the chain's parking lot and hopped out of the car, then walked around to open Marta's door. They were now cruising in a comfortable Audi A5, Aaron having deemed it prudent to ditch the Suburban in Virginia. "Come on professor, time to take a break before all that reading makes you carsick."

Marta allowed Aaron to order their food and engaged enough to ask for sweet tea with lemon, then went back to her Blackberry. Aaron chose a table and sat her down, then retrieved napkins and their drinks before he swooped and pried the Blackberry away from her.

"Enough of that now, time to eat and talk."

"Talk?" Marta's face was irritated, her thoughts still buried in linear epitopes and cross-reactivity with MHC complexes.

"Yes, that thing where I say something, you say something back, and we have a conversation. That thing that has been absent for the last four hours in the car," Aaron took a bite of his chicken. "Damn, that's good. Now, tell me, how is it that you don't have some brainy guy hanging off your arm? Other than me, of course." He smirked.

Marta stuck her tongue out at him. "Me and relationships don't get along."

"I find that hard to believe," Aaron said seriously. "You look like the type that is all about commitment. That big house didn't scream 'I vant to be alone'."

Marta realized he had just quoted Greta Garbo to her. "I like old movies, Jane Austen, and old-fashioned men; and I eat, sleep, breathe, and live my career. In short, I am the ultimate anachronism in a slickly modern scientist. It doesn't make for appealing date conversations." She sounded forlorn and Aaron squeezed her hand briefly.

"I think you're doing pretty good so far here," he said, chowing down on his onion rings.

"This isn't a date, Cross," she said, eating her chicken sandwich and doing her best to glare at him, even if her heart was speeding up at the direction he was taking this conversation.

"Why not? It's a meal, we're already sleeping together, and I want to know more about you. I'd say that qualifies."

She looked flustered now. "Because we have," she dropped her voice and leaned across the table, "half of the government trying to hunt us down and you are one of them!" She sat back up and said quietly, "And a fast food restaurant is hardly a font of romance."

"No, that it's not. But it is convenient, given that a lot of people are looking for us," Marta looked around to see if anyone was listening and glared at him like he was crazy, while he ignored her and continued, "and I think you've had too much 'romance' and not enough messy real life sex and fun. And that's why you're sleeping with me now, and it's why we're going to continue to have these kinds of dates when this is all over." He looked at her frankly, his honest gaze only made slightly less compelling by the mischievous grin.

"You're really arrogant, you know that?" Marta retorted, flustered and given away by the rush of heat to her cheeks.

"You know it." Aaron stood up and held out his hand. "Ready to go?" He escorted her out to the car, opened the door for her and settled in to drive again. "Now, you pick the radio station. Let's find out if you have any decent taste in music."

"Aaron, I need to finish reading those papers," Marta protested. "Give me my Blackberry."

"You can't disappear into science headspace all the time, Marta. More than likely we have a few friends waiting for us, so you'll have plenty of time to read while I make some arrangements to see Jude Hayde in peace. Just relax, listen to the music, and enjoy the ride."

"Fine." Marta spent a few minutes surfing through radio stations, settling on a hard rock station. Aaron grinned as AC/DC's "Highway to Hell" blared through the speakers.

"So, what about that Iron Man flick?"

-Walter Reed National Military Medical Center, Maryland-

Eric Byer looked through the one way glass at the blonde woman seated on the exam table. Her expression was stoic as the lab tech drew blood and checked the stitches in her shoulder.

"How much longer until she is ready to assume active duty?" he asked the doctor.

"48 hours minimum, restricted duty," the doctor said, frowning. Eric mentally adjusted that to 24, nodded to the doctor. An unfortunate side effect of his job was that he often had to make do with pinch hitters until a new team was assembled for special programs.

"Keep me informed." He turned and left the room, punching a number in his phone as he exited the complex and got into his car, heading for the rolling green hills.

"Good afternoon," Turso greeted as Byer arrived in a golf cart, then resumed checking his shot on the green. "I trust that you are prepared to resume operations tomorrow morning, bright and early."

"The asset is hard down for another 24 hours," he replied curtly, nodding to an acquaintance in a passing cart.

"Well, that's inconvenient. What about the #2?"

"He's out for six weeks. Femoral artery."

"Makes you wish the program had been granted clearance a little sooner, eh? I assume number 3 is not ready?" Eric shook his head. "Ah well, that is how the cookie sometimes crumbles. I'm sure you can keep things in train for a day until the bird is ready to fly again." He paused and hit the ball down onto the green. "No pun intended."

"Of course not," Eric said, his mouth twisting wryly.

"Now, what are you going to say to Ezra at lunch to convince him to let you back into that operations room?"

"I think we both know the question is more what will Ezra be able to say that will keep me OUT of this project," Eric said. "I finish what I start." He hit the ball with a vicious thwack, and sent it far past Turso's on the green.

"Well, I know that, Eric, but there are other people involved here. I got a call from my least favorite senator this morning, and the committee is starting to sniff around. They've sent Pamela Landy back into the fray."

"They don't even know what shit smells like, let alone how to find it," he said sarcastically, putting his driver back into his golf bag.

"That may be true, and it may not. You'd better be careful who you piss off over there. Ezra is not going to stay in the hot seat if the temperature rises too fast. You just say what needs to be said to keep him calm. I'll keep the senators chasing their tails."

"Yes, sir."

-University of Maryland, Baltimore, Maryland-

"Have you ever been to Hayde's labs before?" Aaron asked, surveying the campus map. He had broken into an office that was for lease in a commercial tower adjacent to the start of the UM campus, and was scanning the campus scene with a pair of binoculars to match landmarks to the map and get a sense of the flow of people on campus.

"No, but if I know Jude he's in the basement somewhere," Marta said, scanning his current lab website for photos of group members.

Aaron raised a questioning brow. "Why is that?"

She looked up and met his gaze. "He's kind of a conspiracy nut. You get a few beers in him and he goes on and on about government conspiracies and how the whole funding system is corrupt. He'd never agree to have a lab with any windows in it," she paused. "I used to think he was just crazy, but now I don't know."

"Wise woman," Aaron said. "So, what kind of security would his research building be likely to have? Keycard access? Retinal scanners?"

"He has to be in a building with keycards and security personnel, minimally. In order to meet CDC certifications for handling live virus, they'd have to have a level 5 containment system, which will require multiple, staged entrances with their own ventilation systems, and a lot of minus eighty freezers and power hungry systems."

"One of the new buildings then. How rigorous are the students about following the security protocols?"

"Well they would obviously use all the PPE, nobody is that stupid…" Marta began as Aaron stopped her.

"No, the BUILDING security. How vigilant are the grad students about following the security protocols?" Marta made a little "oh" with her mouth, then sat back in the desk chair. "If they're anything like we were, probably not very vigilant at all. We used to use just one keycard to get back into our building after dinner, and the security guards didn't blink an eye."

"What about CCTV?"

"That's not really something that meshes well with academic freedom. No professors will sign up for cameras everywhere monitoring their every move. So, no, probably not."

"Good. You found all of his students there?" he asked, nodding to the laptop screen.

"Yeah, there are probably a few more newbies who just joined the group, but most of them are here." She turned the screen so he could see the group shot.

"Good. Time to ingratiate ourselves with some grad students then. Let's go crash a dinner party."

Two hours later Marta and Aaron were comfortably ensconced in a group of grad students that included a couple of Jude's students. Aaron had produced a fake student ID and employee badge, which caused Marta to wonder briefly when he'd had time to do that, but he also had a very convincing backstory about their recent arrival at UM. He had styled Marta as a post-doc, betting that she couldn't restrain herself from talking too much about the science, and knew he'd pegged it right when a couple of the grad students had been hanging too much on every word and he'd had to throttle her back at dinner. They were all moving en masse toward the building entrance, BioPark 2. As they reached the doors, a few students swiped their badges and Aaron and Marta continued their conversations, ignoring the badge swipe along with their conversation partners. The security guards didn't give them a backward glance, and they all started breaking up for various labs. Marta looked at Aaron, who was conversing with one of Jude's female students as they all headed down the stairs. "I told you so," her eyes said.

"Look at the time, I'd better check on those gels I started. Come on _Jeff_," Marta said, irritated at the way the grad student was flirting with Aaron. He grinned at her and said, "Okay, sure…see you later, ok?" to the girl, who smiled and turned around to walk down the hall.

"You didn't have to enjoy that so much," Marta muttered as they turned the corner of the hallway. Aaron looked around and backed her up against the wall. "Why, are you jealous?" his eyes were too knowing, and Marta gave herself away with the expression on her face. "Don't worry, there's only one scientist who gets under my skin," and he kissed her senseless. "Now, let's go."

They resumed their walk down the hall, passing labs and turning into a corridor of faculty offices. It was pretty easy to find Jude's office—his door was propped open, "Fényes kövek" by Color blaring through the speakers. Aaron unblocked the door to close it, which caused Jude Hayde to look up from his computer as they both swept in, and he couldn't resist—"Hey, Jude."


	12. Chapter 12

-BioPark2, University of Maryland-

"Ah, I have heard that before," Jude reproached Aaron as he turned down the volume slightly on the music. "I wondered when you were going to turn up, Marta. You see, I am not so crazy, eh?" They exchanged a hug and sat down.

"Yes, Jude. Believe me, it's crystal clear."

"I told you you should have gone into academia, Marta! Such unpleasantness, it is better to have a bit more control over your work environment."

"You said you had some information for us?" Aaron asked, crossing his arms and standing at alert by the door.

"No, I said I had _help_ for you. This is a different thing. The information, she probably already has up here," he tapped his brain.

"I don't understand," Marta said.

"I think you do. What do you think the NSF has been paying me to do for the past five years?"

"Well, from the papers you've published, I know you are very close to developing a linear epitope for T-cells. I'm guessing that the one you're onto ultimately maps to a secondary response by an IgG antibody, ensuring you get extremely efficient transfection because the immune system is downregulated. And if I had to guess, I'd say that Paul has improved the vector as well. Am I close?"

"She is smart," Jude said to Aaron, nodding to Marta. "That is why I like her. Yes, you are close. But you are missing the best part—the DNA."

Marta's eyes lit up. "What have you got?"

"Like a kid in a candy store…" Aaron commented. Jude nodded again. "Come with me, both of you. I will show you what the government has paid well for," Jude stood up and turned off his music, grabbed his lab keys.

"What about your students?" Aaron asked.

"They will not be in this room. It is my lab, where I do my work. They don't have the keys," Jude explained, walking them down the corridor. He unlocked an unlabeled room and flipped the light switches to reveal a small lab equipped with a minus eighty freezer, various microscopes, autoclave, and sink. "My sanctuary. I hide here when too many students are pounding on my office door." He crossed to the freezer, donned a glove and removed a tray. He reverently removed two microtubes, put them in a microtube tray temporarily.

"Marta, dry ice please," he gestured toward the hood, where Marta donned gloves and grabbed some chunks of dry ice from the black foam bucket. "Where?" she asked, then spotted the empty white Styrofoam shipping containers and grabbed the smallest one.

"Smaller, smaller," Jude said, breaking up the dry ice to his satisfaction with a hammer, then dropping the tubes into the container. "Now, they are yours."

"What is it?" Aaron asked, eyeing Marta. Jude's eyes danced. "Marta, it's the ubiquitination pathway."

"Oh my God! Jude, do you know what that means? That's huge!" Marta was practically dancing.

"I know, I know. The trials are being run now at Detrick, but the first set of results are very good. I will present them at the Society conference in July."

"Hold up, non-science guy here," Aaron interrupted. "Can you tell me what that means in plain English?"

They both turned to him and started to explain.

"The ubiquitination pathway helps the immune system target cells that are infected with virus, so if you can slow it down, then you give the virus more time to propagate and infect other cells with the DNA."

"And now we have done this, we have slowed down the particular pathway responsible for activating the immune system. It will still happen, of course, we don't want the immune system to not destroy the infection, but it happens more slowly, which means more of the DNA is put into the host organism."

Marta turned back to Jude. "What improvement have you gotten in efficiency?"

"Fifteen percent," Jude said.

"What are you targeting?"

"Fibrinolysis." Marta clapped her hands. "I can't believe this. It's like I've just won the lottery. How on earth did you do it?"

"Collaborations with others at Taiwan Tech, UGA, Stanford. It has been coming together slowly for a few years, but now it has all crystallized in that tube," Jude nodded to the box.

"Hello? Non-science guy?" Aaron said again.

"Sorry, sorry," Marta said. Jude explained again the way he would to an undergrad. "Fibrinolysis prevents blood clots from becoming too large. It essentially helps the person fight off the damage from injury."

Aaron looked sharply at Marta. "Did any of your subjects go through Detrick?"

Marta nodded. "Yes, that and Walter Reed."

"And that tube contains the virus that makes someone resistant to damage from injuries?"

Jude nodded. "Yes."

Aaron swiftly sealed the container with packing tape and constructed a rough handle. "How many 'subjects' have you seen results for thus far, Dr. Hayde?"

"Three. More are slated to begin next week."

Aaron exchanged a sharp look with Marta and mouthed, "Barbie." She paled. "Jude, I think we need to leave now."

"Of course," Jude took hold of her shoulders. "But Marta, I have only given you something to even out your chances. I can't do more. It would be a shame to lose another good scientist to the machine…be careful."

They exited the lab swiftly and started to return to Jude's office. Aaron stopped them when he heard the music coming under the office door. They all retreated around the corner and into the restroom. "You turned off your music," he said quietly. "Thank you again Dr. Hayde, and I am so sorry," as he knocked him out yet again. "Let's go."

They crept out of the bathroom and moved in the opposite direction of the Hayde labs. "Whatever you do, don't lose this," Aaron said, putting the container into Marta's hand.

"As if I would," she whispered back, as Aaron peeked around the next corner. "There's one guy at the stairwell. He's got to go. Stay here while I take care of it." Aaron sprinted the twenty feet, knocking the agent's handgun out of his hand and flipping his arm antiparallel to the socket, bringing him crashing to his knees and his conscious activity to a halt. He unsnaked the comm link and radio and motioned to Marta, listening briefly. "They're all over. We're going to have to raise as little fuss as possible to get out of here." He glanced up at the evacuation map, correlating it to his mental map of the building's exterior. "Here," he pointed to an exit on the map. "Let's go."

They snaked up the stairwell and onto the first floor. Aaron's reconnaissance told him that the best way out was an exit at the southwestern corner of the building, near the fitness center. The basement had agents posted at every stairwell, they had about four minutes before theirs was noticed as being down. Aaron grabbed Marta's hand and they sped down the corridor at a brisk walk. Aaron spotted an open lab door with lab coats and snagged two for them, putting them on plus a pair of gloves. With Marta carrying the Styrofoam container any glimpses down a long hallway made them look like students or scientists going about their business. They rounded a corner and Aaron spotted a team at the double doors leading to the fitness center part of the building. He ran full-tilt and slid at the last minute, taking out one agent with a debilitating kick and handspringing back to his feet to tussle briefly with the other one. He clasped the man's hand like it was a handshake and flipped his glove over the thumb, rendering that hand useless, then flipped the agent into his partner just as he was trying to re-engage. One of their heads hit the floor with a hard thunk and the other hit the wall. "Just like sliding into second," he said, then turned to deal with the other team that was rushing through the door. He parried the first blow and absorbed the second from the other agent, spotted the hypodermic in the hand of the first and pulled the other glove up to deflect and wrap it, then did a 180 and injected the second guy with it, slamming the needle through the latex. The first agent rammed him in the midsection against the wall, and Aaron jump kicked him off and settled for a few good old-fashioned punches to take him down. Marta ran over and he pulled her through the double doors and into the busy gym. He was starting to breathe moderately hard now, so he fit right in. Marta removed her lab coat and folded it up over the container, making for the building exit at top speed. They hustled through the exit doors and were headed out when Aaron heard a tell-tale whistle and pushed them both down as a bullet crashed into the building. "I guess we're about to meet #3," he said. "Run!"

He pulled Marta to her feet and grabbed her hand, the white lab coat fluttering to the ground behind as he started dodging through the trees and vegetation. They crashed through the shrubs onto Fremont and he pulled her through the trees in the triangle, sprinting for Martin Luther King Jr. Boulevard. He could hear the asset crashing through the trees behind them, felt the zing of a bullet whizzing past. He pulled Marta along, straight for the traffic on the street. "Are you crazy!?" she yelled at him, but his mind was already leapfrogging through the cars, compensating for the fact that she was slower to give them as much cover as possible. He one-handed his gun from his holster and made for the HSF1 building. He heard the horns and crashes, hoped that one of them had caused the asset to slow down enough for them to make it.

"Where are you going?"she half-hissed, half-panted. Her lungs felt like they were about to explode and her legs were rapidly turning to pure collagen. He didn't answer, just changed the plan on the fly and ducked both of them around the wall of the MTSF building just in time, a bullet shattering the edge of the leading wall. "Let's hope I'm just as quick at picking locks," he panted, holstering his weapon again and making short work of the simple keylock.

"Thank God," Marta stammered between great gulps of air. He pulled her into the empty building and made for the stairs to the third floor, randomly opening doors to classrooms along the first floor corridor. Marta had wrapped the tape handle around her wrist, the container as secure as she could make it. They jogged up the three flights, Aaron taking a second to pick another lock to gain access to the third floor. On the other side he looked for a way to resecure the door but found nothing, so he kept them moving fast toward the bridge to HSF1.

"I hope you're not intending to cross that glass bridge in what is practically broad daylight," she hissed, referencing the moon that was creeping out from the clouds.

"Well, it's that or sit and wait for #3 in plain sight. I'd rather risk it," Aaron said, pulling her across in a quick sprint the center of the walkway. There were no shots, which told Aaron the asset was in the building. "If you've got extra to give, now is the time," he said, sprinting down the stairs with Marta, toward the basement.

"The basement, the basement?!" Aaron turned and put his hand over Marta's mouth, "Trust me."

He got them quickly into the mechanical room, which was full of paralleling equipment and high voltage relays. "Here we go," he accessed the computer panel, started giving instructions to the equipment, darting a few looks at the electrical panel labels on the wall, nicking a couple of insulators. Then he pulled her through the maze of relays, working past cages of transformers and finally tucking her into a tiny crevice between a concrete support and one of the cages. He passed her a gun, mouthed, "Stay here," and disappeared into the odd shadows cast by the orange lights.

Aaron silently worked back toward the door, betting their 'friend' would come in there. No sooner had he gotten close than the door opened and a tall, broad shouldered man entered the room, a semiautomatic with a silencer in front of him. He checked his watch, mentally started counting seconds, then moved to intercept him after he passed the first cage. He leaped down from the top of the cage wall where he'd been camouflaged by the HVAC pipes, hitting him in the shoulder and knocking them both to the ground. It was quick and dirty fighting once he managed to pound the asset's hand enough times into the lock of the grate to make him drop the weapon. The guy pulled a knife next, and Aaron wasn't quite quick enough to avoid a slash to his upper arm. He ignored the burn and twisted the wrist, breaking the radius and causing the knife to clatter to the floor. They were deadly silent, a few grunts betraying the effort both were expending to stay ahead of the other. _Seven…six…_ He made his move, charging the asset and grappling him, dancing around near the relays. _Four…three…_ he twisted and feinted, the slide of fabric against the upper arm wound a howl of pain he buried deep in his id, _two…_kicking the asset into relay 31 just as the paralleling system kicked on and sent 30,000 volts and hundreds of amps through. He reflexively ducked and waited two seconds as the safety interlocks kicked in and transferred the voltage from the ground fault, one very dead asset. Aaron wiped the blood on his arm and thought, "That's going to sting when she stitches it," and led Marta back out behind the relays, certain she did not need to add the image of a cooked man to the smell that permeated the room.


	13. Chapter 13

-Laurel, Maryland-

"Ow," Aaron said as Marta pulled another stitch tight.

"You want local, go to a hospital," she muttered, piercing his skin again with swift efficiency. He loved it when she was being ruthlessly efficient. She had rinsed the wound out in the bathtub and pieced together the sides of the deep laceration, studied it like an artist to determine how to fit the pieces back together before setting the first stitch. "This is very deep, Cross…vertical mattress stitch…" she muttered to herself, picking up speed.

"You wound me, doc—what happened to the Hippocratic oath?" Aaron teased as he watched her careful stitches.

"It went right out the window along with my expectation of a clean surgical suite and suitable equipment," she retorted, gesturing at the hotel room. "The $6 Walmart desk lamp is not exactly surgical grade illumination." She pulled another stitch through, tied it off. "Twenty-one."

"I would have made it fifteen and called it good," Aaron said, meeting her eyes before she set the final stitch.

"That's why you're not a surgeon," she replied, putting in a neat horizontal mattress stitch to mirror its partner at the other end of the suture site. She took a closer look at a faded line on the underside of his arm. "I can see you've done your own handiwork before, some of these scars look like the work of Frankenstein."

Aaron shrugged. "Needs must when the devil farts in your face."

She sat back, a curious expression on her face. "Where have I heard that before…is that a Blackadder quote?"

"Yes, it is. Want to finish up there doc? I'd like to clean up a bit more," Aaron held up his hands to illustrate why. They were scraped from the rough metal cages he'd climbed, the knuckles bruised.

"My but you're impatient. I would have thought after so much fried food you'd enjoy some time to just digest today's events." Her sarcasm was not missed.

"You use what is there to stay alive. First rule of survival, no matter what the job."

Marta sat back. "Twenty-two. All done." She wiped the suture site one more time with some moist gauze, tossed it in the trash; the metallic smell of blood freshly hitting her nose. She was seized with a sudden lump in her throat, turned away to busy her hands with tidying the surgery kit on the back of the toilet. Aaron wiped his hands on a towel, came over to crouch down in front of her.

"Hey," he said gently, "I'm okay. You're okay."

She shook her head. "I can't get used to this. You, fighting to the death with someone sent to kill us both, me patching you up afterward," she paused and looked at him, her eyes begging for something she didn't understand. "I don't want to live like this, wondering if the next minutes are going to bring death and pain."

Aaron pulled her to her feet and held her against him. "You should never get used to it. We're going to make it stop, Marta."

"How can you be sure? How can you swan around as if none of this bothers you, like it's normal for you to have to kill people?" She knew it wasn't fair to say that but she couldn't help herself.

He pulled back and rubbed her arms with his hands. "Marta, there are a lot of things that happen in the field that are ugly or just plain horrifying. I've never gotten used to it. But I do know that dwelling on it does not help me, and it certainly doesn't do anything honorable for those who have died, whatever the reason."

Marta nodded. Aaron grabbed the container and handed it to her. "Now, let's start our next experiment together."

Marta shook her head. "No, I don't want to do that," even as her scientific brain said she was being irrational. "I don't want you to be a lab rat for me anymore."

Aaron leaned back. "What is this? I'd have thought you would be coming at me with a syringe and that virus at the first opportunity."

"Aaron, I don't know what the possible side effects are from this. I heard you with Jason—that woman was deliberately aiming at a five year old child. There are so many unknown variables…we don't know how this modification affects the patient yet…it could be hitting other ubiquitination pathways…I just don't like it," she said, rubbing her arm distractedly. She met his gaze again. "I can't do that to you." Her eyes were betraying her, saying more than she liked, so she broke the gaze and looked away.

Aaron was not letting her get away with that, however. He planted his feet on either side of her, gently tipped up her face with both hands, and looked her straight in the eye. "That is not going to happen to me."

"Aaron, how do I know that?" she whispered. "How do I know I'm not turning you into some automaton who doesn't feel pain, doesn't think about what you're aiming at before you pull the trigger?"

"Because you have no idea what kind of training I've already been through, and I'm still here—the person underneath the training is still here. No modification you make to my genes is going to change that." His eyes were certain, reassuring.

She licked her lips, considering. Aaron wanted to force the issue, but knew it was important that she make the decision. Finally she nodded, turning to get a syringe. Aaron breathed a sigh of relief—he would have done it himself, but it was far better this way. He felt the brief sting and met her eyes. "Thanks for the program update, Doc." He pulled her into his arms and started kissing her gently, then more urgently to stop the tears from forming in her eyes, satisfy his building hunger for her.

"If I didn't know better I'd say you were starting to care about me," he quipped as he slid his hand under the waistband of her pants to caress her butt.

"You know I do," she whispered, burying her head in his neck and inhaling the smell of him, a smell that she had come to love. He claimed her mouth again and her full attention snapped into focus on his marvelous body, everything so luxuriously hot and a bit messy. "I can't seem to get enough of you," she whispered as clothes were hitting the floor.

"Good." He reclaimed her mouth with his tongue and crushed her body against his. They didn't even make it to the bed.

-Carderock Springs, Maryland-

"Byer." He listened briefly to the update, frowned and turned to look at the rain Vanessa was dumping over his back yard.

"Get every agent involved into Langley, and bring Dr. Hayde and every single student in too. I want to talk to each of them, personally."

"Now, sir?"

"Yes, now!" He hung up the phone, prepared to get dressed again. _Fuck_, he thought, considering. He picked up the phone again and dialed Detrick. "Get the virus into subject 4, now."

There was no utility in being pissed off. Eric parked his emotions and planned exactly what he wanted to get out of the agents and Hayde's group. He was satisfied with the text he received fifteen minutes into his drive to Langley: _Done_.

The agent debrief proved the effectiveness of the asset training programs, past and present. Eric dismissed them, already knowing that unless a large number of agents were present at the same place, they had little chance against one of the black ops assets. It served as a useful lesson for them on the price of arrogance, however, something that seemed to be necessary more frequently at the CIA in his experience. He turned his attention to Hayde's students next, who were all in various stages of fright and intimidation at being interrogated at CIA headquarters. If nothing else, Eric understood the value of setting the stage. The first three didn't recognize Cross or Shearing, and obviously knew nothing. He dismissed them and hit paydirt with student 4. She was a slim, nervous blonde, and a quick glance through the mirror showed that she had a bad habit of biting her fingernails. Eric liked her on sight. He nodded to the guard and entered the room.

"Good evening, Ms. Frederickson. Sorry to inconvenience you this way," he said, shaking her hand.

"Oh, uh, it's okay. I guess there was a lot of excitement in the building tonight, I'm not quite sure what happened but if I can help…" she trailed off, rubbing her arm nervously.

He deliberately didn't introduce himself, which he knew made her more nervous. He slid a print-out with pictures of Cross and Shearing across the table, remaining standing. "You said you recognized these two individuals. Can you elaborate on that for me?"

"Yeah. A bunch of us went out to grab some dinner, you know, just a big group; and we met them at the restaurant. They said they were just starting at UM—she was a postdoc in Byrd's group, he was a new grad student."

"Was anyone from Dr. Byrd's group with you?"

"Um, no," she said, blushing as the implication hit her.

"I see. And what happened then?" He softened his body language, gave her a smile.

"We just talked about our work and what grad school is like…they said all the right things, and she was very smart, you could tell that she knew her stuff."

"And what happened when you went back to the building?"

"We swiped in and broke off for our labs." Eric gave her a look and she revised herself. "I mean, Paul swiped in, and Nhi did, and we were all talking so not all of us used our badges…"

"Julie, do you understand what it is that you work with?" He was all business now, slipping the print-out back into the folder.

"Yes, we use virus vectors for transfection…" she stopped at his cold look, clearly miserable now.

"No. You make weapons, Julie. Very dangerous weapons. And your negligence of basic security protocols cost the United States government lives and a very big security breach." He slid a paper and pencil across the table. "Now, you are going to write down the names of every single student, post-doc, or hanger-on in your little dinner party, and you're going to do it now. And you're going to pray that this contempt for the _basics_ of how you do your job doesn't cost you an entire career." Her face was chalk white as he strode from the room, but she had already picked up the pencil.

"What do you want me to do with her list?" Dita asked, emerging from the mirror room.

"Throw it in the trash. Let's keep an eye on her. She's probably a good fit for Detrick in a few years."

Dita nodded and he moved on to Hayde.

"Professor," he nodded as he entered the room. Jude's face was tired, a large goose egg prominent on his forehead. "You seem to have quite a run of bad luck with your head lately." He sat down negligently across the table, studied him.

"And you are?" Jude asked, no stranger to intimidation tactics.

"My apologies. Eric Byer, USAF Colonel, retired." He shook Jude's hand across the table, sat back down.

"Pleased to meet you," Jude replied calmly, waiting for him to start.

Eric opted for an indirect approach. "Your group is involved in some very interesting research with the U.S. military, Dr. Hayde. As I'm sure you know, that makes you an appealing target for this country's enemies."

"I don't believe that," Jude replied. "I study science, the fruits of it are available to all."

"So the NSF doesn't fund your research? I was under the impression that it did."

"That does not mean they own it. Public domain, Colonel…that is what publications mean."

Eric leaned forward. "But we both know that you don't publish everything that comes out of your lab, Jude. Cut the crap. What did you give to Aaron Cross and Marta Shearing?"

"I don't have any live virus in my lab, you know this. Why are you wasting my time? All of the transfection agents are kept at Detrick."

"At which you are a regular visitor."

"Of course I am a regular visitor, I have to see how the virus responds, supervise the tests! You think a graduate student is able to do this alone? You are not a fool, please do not treat me like one."

"Cross and Shearing were spotted with a container in hand, a container suitable for the transport of live agents. Why would they have that if they had not come to your lab specifically to retrieve something?"

"I don't know, it's not like we had a cup of tea. Marta had questions for me, questions that I tried to answer. Wouldn't you do the same if the man who knocked you unconscious before was standing there with a gun? I like her, she is a good scientist. She deserves better treatment than she has received thus far."

Eric grimaced mentally. Jude had an airtight alibi, there were no containers of transfection agent in the lab, and there were none missing from Detrick. Eric had nothing on him and he knew it. "Thank you for your time, Dr. Hayde." Jude nodded and Eric left the room.

-Bald Head Island, North Carolina-

Jason is standing in David's bedroom, looking at him in the growing light of dawn. Nicky comes in, takes his hand and whispers, "Hey."

They both exit the room and go downstairs, look out the window at the churned up ocean. The dawn is breaking and it looks calmer than yesterday. Jason is still holding Nicky's hand as he admits, "He's important to me. _You_ are important to me."

Nicky turns him to face her, takes his other hand. "Jason, I've loved you for a long time."

Jason touched his forehead to hers briefly. "I know you have, Nicky. You know me better than I know myself. I just didn't know it." He looks out the window, takes a deep breath and looks back at Nicky. "I'm going to finish this. You of all people know what that means."

Nicky tapped his heart, rested her hand on his chest. "As long as you keep this going, Bourne. That's all that matters." He folded her into his arms and kissed her.

"Ahem." John Parsons cleared his throat, clearly a bit disgruntled to find them in an intimate embrace in the living room after coming down the stairs.

"We have less than an hour until David wakes up. Now is the time to get down to business," Jason said, stepping back from Nicky a bit.

Nicky clicked back into work mode to help herself corral her emotions. "Dad, I need your agency laptop; Jason, I need your phone."

"She knows what she wants, give it to her," Jason said, handing Nicky his phone.

"Does this mean I can finally make a few phone calls?" John asked wryly.

"I think that can be arranged."


	14. Chapter 14

**It's going to pick up pretty fast from here on out, buckle your seatbelts and get ready. Thanks again for the amazing reviews, it's very encouraging. And, of course, I don't own any of these characters, etc. Thanks!**

-Laurel, Maryland-

Aaron's phone rang at 0600, Jason on the other end. Marta stirred drowsily, and wasn't able to make much sense out of Aaron's replies.

"Uh-huh…yep…of course, that makes it better…yeah…okay, how long?" he checked his watch. "Roger that. See you then." He hung up the phone, turned to pat Marta on the ass. "Wake up, Doc, we have our marching orders."

"I hate morning people," she groaned from under the pillow.

-Langley, Virginia-

"I see you were working the night shift," Pamela said as she entered the operations room with Noah Vosen. This new 'camaraderie' was getting on her nerves. "Pam Landy," she held out her hand and Eric shook it briefly. "Eric Byer." She gave him credit for pretending he didn't know who she was, just like she pretended she didn't know who he was. Her first impression was that he was a very cold bastard, but she had been wrong before.

"So, what happened?" she asked, looking at the transcripts from the interviews.

"They got away," he deadpanned, his cold gray eyes showing a spark of humor. "Dita, any progress in cross-checking the vector records from Stanford and UGA?"

"What about Taiwan Tech? Can we get a team in there to check their inventory?" she asked.

"The Chinese are a bit sensitive about us sending American intelligence agents in there," Noah interrupted. "We'd be better off asking the relevant scientists who were in the country for the Gordon conference."

Three pairs of eyes locked. "The conference."

"Why did Hayde leave before it ended?" Vosen said.

"Probably for more than just a concussion," Pam said.

Byer turned to Arthur. "Get a team out to put Hayde into custody."

"Not so fast," Pam said. "We don't have anything on him, just a suspicion. We need to find out exactly what he got at that conference so we can track it. Without that information, we're going nowhere."

Byer nodded. "Zev, Arthur, start combing the conference abstracts for groups working in related viruses."

"Tom, get a team going through entry records for foreign scientists attending the conference. Look for any containers that could carry live viral agents."

"Wills, you're with me. Time to revisit your interviews with the domestic attendees." Vosen headed for the adjacent conference room with Wills. Pam and Tom exchanged a look, but there was nothing they could do.

"What about Bourne?"

"We have a team on the way to Bald Head Island. The Parsons have a vacation home there."

-Southport, North Carolina; 7 am-

"There's no booster seat," David said, looking at the backseat of the Lexus.

"That's okay, David, just get in."

"I'm going to sit with you, honey. I've got some movies on my computer for you," Meredith twirled the earbuds and patted the middle seat. "Do you have Angry Birds?" David asked.

Jason helped Nicky buckle in, then engaged in a brief and silent power struggle with John over who was going to drive. Nicky piped up from the back, "Oh for God's sake Dad, Jason has been through more recent training! Let him drive!"

Jason decided to offer an olive branch as they set off. "Were you able to contact your informant?"

"Yes, and the sooner this is running, the better. According to my information, a team is expected here within the hour. The ferry doesn't start running until 8, I imagine they think they can take their time."

"That gives us an hour and a half head start," Jason said. "I hope you don't mind losing this car."

"I haven't had one stolen in a while, I suppose I'm due," John replied.

"Nicky, how is that program coming along?" Jason asked. Nicky was tapping away on the laptop from the backseat, her arm out of the navy sling despite Marta's orders. She was the only one who could pull off the hacks they would need to temporarily mar the facial recognition software at Langley. John passed Jason a badge, checked the backseat to see that David was watching a movie, earbuds firmly in place. He looked at Meredith, who looked back at him expectantly. "Perhaps you might want to listen to your iPod, hon?" They had only had enough time at the house for a very brief conversation about the next steps before they had to get everyone packed and onto their boat for the journey back across the bay, a journey made slower by the changed sandbars from Vanessa.

"John, if you think I didn't know that you weren't retired, you are out of your mind," she replied firmly. "Half of my nonsense has been designed to keep you out of harm's way since Nicky disappeared."

John stared at her, Jason smiled to himself, and even Nicky looked up from her computer. "Wow, Mom. That's so incredibly deceptive."

"Dear, I might not have any training, but I do have a brain. I haven't been married to a CIA man for 30 years without learning a thing or two."

"I see where you get it from," Jason murmured, looking at Nicky in the rearview mirror.

"However, I really don't want to hear any of the names you are going to drop, so I AM going to use my iPod for a bit," Meredith announced, satisfied with the effect of her bombshell on her husband. "I can't imagine how I'd feel if I knew ahead of time about any of my friends' husbands being arrested."

Two hours later, Nicky was putting the final tweaks onto the program, her shoulder screaming at her for the overuse. Jason and John had laid out the main players in the agency, discussing possible involvements in the various black ops programs and ruling out some directors based on Jason's own field work over the last few years. Nicky was unsurprised that he had kept working on it after New York—he was not the kind of man to give up.

"Byer is a real problem. Because he's never been permanently affiliated with the agency, his network is very ill-defined. We know he's involved but what we don't know is who he reports to, and with all of his government work and connections in the military, it hasn't been possible to identify who it is. There is one missing person between him and Kramer, and that is who we need to identify in order to shut this down," John finished. "You and Cross put that on the fast track, for which I'm grateful. But if Byer or Kramer get spooked, they will shut it all down and reshuffle the deck, setting us back again by another year or more."

"During which time myself, Nicky, Aaron and Marta all remain targets."

"Exactly."

"What sort of authorization do you have to bring this to a halt?"

"I have Congressional authority to shut it down, provided I can prove clear and present harm to the U.S."

"Sutton?"

"Yes, and I'm pretty sure Kramer and crew know about it. There is a leak on the Senate committee that is feeding back to them. Sutton is working on his end to unmask the crooked senator. Thus far they have not bothered to come after me because I was not making any progress and they knew it."

"That's obviously changed," Jason said, glancing at Nicky and David in the backseat. "I don't like the risk."

"That's why you are going to Langley. You can ask for a bit more help." Jason stole a sideways glance at Parsons, certain he knew exactly whom he would ask.

-Silver Spring, Maryland-

"Jesus, Bourne, what were you driving to get here? A school bus?" Aaron hopped out of the Audi, Marta along with him. The movie theater parking lot was practically empty, the worn down nature of the strip mall making it a less than savory destination.

"I had to drop a few people off." He nodded to Marta. "Where are you going to be?"

"Enjoying myself at a shopping mall, courtesy of Aaron's bank account. However, I have something to take care of first. Arm, please."

"Excuse me?" Jason said, stopping in the transfer of gear from his car to Aaron's.

"We got a present for you from Jude Hayde," she said, withdrawing a syringe and the tube from the remnants of the dry ice which they had replenished that morning.

"What is that?" Jason asked, eyeing the tube. "I left guinea pig school five years ago."

"She just wants to make you siiiiiick, bro," Aaron jibed, drawing out the word like a hip-hop jockey. "Look at me, I got it yesterday and I'm fine."

"You want a level playing field with Barbie and her friends, you let me inject you with this." Marta was no-nonsense now, her strict bedside manner on full display. "It's a virus that transforms your DNA to resist tissue damage after injury."

"How fast does it work?" Jason looked skeptical.

"Based on Jude's data, you'll start seeing the effects within four hours, with full transfection within 24 hours."

"I thought I was done with this crap. Does it ever end?" Jason said, letting Marta stick him as he looked at Aaron.

"No. In fact, I'm willing to bet it's worse now. I could tell you horror stories—she was the worst of them all."

"Fuck."

"Shut up, Cross!" Marta said, capping the needle with practiced ease and throwing it in a biohazard bag.

"Now, give me the keys, please," she said, holding her hand out to Jason. "Thank you. And the phone numbers for Nicky. Maybe she wants to do some damage to Jason's bank account too." At the looks from both of them, she said, "Kidding! Kidding! But still, I want to talk to her. Please."

Jason keyed the number into her Blackberry for her. "No Cartier! Or Tiffanys!" Aaron called out as she drove away.

"Now, on to the fun and games. Which leads to my first question: how are we getting in?" he asked as they buckled up and headed toward Langley.

Jason held up the two badges John Parsons had given him. "I have a skeleton key."

"Oooo, you found a sugar daddy! I didn't know you had it in you, you gigolo!"


	15. Chapter 15

**Apologies for the delay, probably just 1 chapter today. Super busy in work, plus this is slow going to keep all the threads right and make sure it stays on point. Hope you enjoy it.**

-CIA Headquarters, Langley, Virginia-

Aaron and Jason badged in, passing through the second set of glass doors past security and heading for the elevator banks. The car they drove was registered to a non-existent agent, John Parsons providing the license plates. They rode up with a few other people, no one saying a word. Out of the elevator Aaron nodded to Jason and broke off down the opposite corridor. Jason walked purposefully toward a set of offices, swiping in. People were passing in and out of all the adjacent offices, preparing for the end of the day and shift transfers. He looked up briefly to confirm his destination—"Noah Vosen". He was quickly in, shutting the door behind him.

"You'd think he'd learn," Jason muttered, quickly pulling a print and opening the safe. He removed files and quickly leafed through them. Blackbriar, closed. Outcome. This was more interesting. He scanned the pages—nothing incriminating. He turned to the desktop and pulled a flash drive, looking for anything that hinted at the chain of command for Outcome.

Aaron had a bit more work. Byer's office was unmarked, so he had to go through two other temporary offices before he hit pay dirt. The desk was immaculately tidy, the computer's desktop blank, recycle bin empty. He checked the email archives, pulled all the messages for review later. The safe was empty. "Bourne, we need the phone," he said into his earpiece, checked his watch.

"Ops room."

Aaron moved out of the office. "You find the marauder's map?" There were dozens of operations rooms, they had no way of knowing exactly where the people focused on finding them were located.

"I'm counting on your magnetic personality to get us in," Jason replied, waiting.

"You mean like this?" Aaron pressed a button his phone.

-Ops Room, CIA Headquarters-

"Sir! John Parsons just popped up in the Pentagon. He has Nicky Parsons and her son with him," Arthur turned to look at Eric, waiting for the order.

"Who is he with?" Pam asked.

"I don't know yet—we are pulling all the cameras in the building now."

"What branch?" Eric asked impatiently, but Arthur didn't get a chance to answer. The building's alarms went off for a rapid general evacuation. Pam locked eyes with Tom, and Vosen spoke up quickly, "All right people, we have to evacuate. Put it all on secure stand-by and let's go."

Everyone seemed reluctant to go, all three principals eyeing each other suspiciously. "What's going on?" Tom whispered to Pam.

"I don't know."

Then an explosion hit, and they all scrambled to get out. They heard snatches of other conversations in the chaotic crowd.

"Air Force is tracking a plane"

"Jets scrambled from Langley"

"Radar shadows from north-northeast"

Cell phones went off in everyone's pockets, and people started running, streaming for the exits. Pam was headed outside when she was pulled back behind a pillar and found herself face to face again with Jason Bourne.

"No time," he said, hustling her along at a quick jog, moving into and up a nearly empty stairwell. "Where is the ops room?"

"This way." A second charge went off, sending the evacuees into fresh waves of panic as they ran out. The smell of burning office furniture filled the air, and smoke was beginning to obstruct several hallways where the sprinkler system was damaged. Pam and Jason ran into the ops room.

"Where are Byer's people?" Pam pointed to the stations, watched Jason download files and pull data. Jason turned back to her, asking, "Who is Byer's number two?"

"Dita Anderssen. She didn't leave until the explosion," Pam said as Tom Cronin peeled through the door and was instantly targeted by Jason. He held his hands up, quickly said, "Byer and Vosen are on their way back in."

"Pam, talk to Marty, _now_. We are missing one person in this equation, once we find him, we are going to move on this," he thrust a piece of paper in her hands. "You and Tom," he nodded at Tom, who nodded back. Pam glanced briefly at the paper as she took off with Tom.

"Is that what I think it is?" Tom asked as they loped into the closest stairs, heading for Marty's office.

"Jason Bourne is back in the fold," Pam said, exchanging a smile with Tom.

"Less than a minute," Aaron said, joining Jason in the corridor leading to the fire exit, right as Noah Vosen and Eric Byer stepped out. A part of Jason enjoyed the brief flit of surprise on Noah Vosen's face before he planted his fist in it and sent him to the floor. Byer had his gun aimed, but Aaron was faster, knocking it to the floor and retreating before Byer could engage him. Byer found himself staring down two gun barrels, raised his hands. "Cross," he coolly nodded to Aaron. "What can I do for you two gentlemen?"

"Not a damn thing," Aaron said, knocking him out so that Jason could retrieve his phone. They swiftly exited as a third charge exploded in the now nearly-empty building, more smoke than fire to keep everyone out. A team of F-16s streaked overhead as they drove off.

"Well, that went well," Aaron said. "You ever been in there?"

"I don't think so," Jason said. "I usually get flashbacks. You get the files?" His hands were methodical, shuffling electronic components and SIM cards into various slots. Jason put the phone on the seat between them, turned on the receiver.

"Yep, Kramer had them in his office."

"Kramer won't take that lying down."

"Count on it."

"Where do the numbers on the phone track?"

"The Pentagon." Jason and Aaron exchanged a glance.

"Let's just hope Byer is as predictable as he is ruthless."

-Hazy, smoke-filled hallway, CIA Headquarters-

Byer came to first, coughing from the smoke inhalation and rubbing his head briefly before snapping back to full consciousness. Vosen was starting to stir, his groans far in excess of his actual injuries. Eric rifled through Noah's pockets, grabbed the cell phone and walked away from Vosen to make his call.

"Parsons is there with Nicky and the boy."

Turso looked around the hallway, stepped into the restroom. "You know I can't be involved, Byer."

"You'd better get involved before this whole thing blows up in our faces. They're in General Clare's office. Get moving or get ready for the arrest warrant." He hung up the phone and tossed it to Vosen. "You'd better get your backstory ready and fast." He started to exit the building, Noah grabbed his arm.

"Where are you going?"

"To drop some napalm," he said, ignoring the trickle of operations people who were reentering the hallway. He spotted Dita. "Peregrine and Four, now." He started to walk past, then demanded her phone and left the building with it, already talking.

-The Pentagon, Washington, D.C.-

Nicky, Meredith, and David were ensconced in the plush confines of the wingback chairs that dotted the vestibule of General Clare's office. His secretary was charmed by David, and kept offering him Lifesavers from the bowl of them on her desk. John was closeted with the general in his office, watching the terrorism drill unfold in real time.

"This is golden, John. I've said for years that they weren't prepared—well here is my proof!"

"Thank you, Garrett, it helped shake up a few things on my end too. I appreciate you working with me on short notice."

"Not at all, not at all! Now, when are we going to get together again for dinner?" He walked John out to the waiting area, greeted Meredith and proclaimed David a handsome young man.

"I'll get Meredith to email Peggy and set something up," John said. They shook hands and they hustled out of the office, prepared to get out and get to the next stop.

"John, long time no see!" Mark Turso ambled down the hall, shaking his hand. "And Meredith, too, how pleasant," he looked expectantly at Nicky and David, and Meredith performed the introductions, "This is our daughter Nicky, and her son David."

"Well, you're a tall fellow! How old are you?"

"Five," David's tone was cautious, his eyes studying him. There was something he didn't like about him, something false.

"Five! Time just flies, doesn't it?"

John interrupted him, "Mark, we have to get going, we have another appointment, you know how it is."

"Of course, of course, it seems like retirement is busier than working, eh John? But we should get together for a round of golf, before the weather gets bad, you know…" he trailed off as a team of Pentagon police officers approached them.

"Nicolette Parsons?" one of them said, while two officers flanked her.

"Yes?" Nicky darted a glance at her father, who was clearly surprised. Meredith clenched David's shoulders tightly.

"I'm authorized to place you under arrest for the murder of Special Agent Nicholas Byrnes. Come with me, please."

"It's okay David, I'll be okay," she said automatically, meeting his eyes as the officer took her good arm and led her away.

"Nicky! I'll deal with it, I'm on it right now," John Parsons said as he walked along for a few steps, shaking off the police officer who tried to restrain him with a glare.

"Where are they taking my mom?" she heard David asking as they turned the corner. "Mom!"


	16. Chapter 16

-George Washington Memorial Parkway, Virginia-

Jason's phone buzzed, the incoming audio file downloaded. "Time to unmask the missing piece." He played the recording next to the microphone on John's laptop, the program analyzing the conversation to make a match to the one they'd just recorded from Vosen's ghosted phone. "Admiral Mark Turso, retired USN."

"I love it when a plan comes together," Aaron quipped. "We're missing the stylin' van, though."

Jason dialed Pam Landy, noted the incoming call from Parsons. It would have to wait.

"Pamela Landy."

"Pam, time to drop the ball. We've ID'ed the missing link—Admiral Mark Turso."

"Got it. We can definitely snag Kramer and Vosen, but Byer left the building."

Jason and Aaron exchanged a look. "I'll call you right back, Pam."

Jason hit the call log, redialed Parsons.

"Jason, Nicky was just arrested for the murder of a special agent. I don't know where they are taking her, but I'm betting she won't be alone for long." Jason's jaw tightened, Aaron murmured, "Byer."

"What about David?"

"We have him, we are leaving now—did you ID Turso?"

Jason let out the breath he'd been holding. He couldn't think about Nicky emotionally right now, he had to stay in the zone, but the edges were all blurring. David Webb and Jason Bourne were almost one and the same now, it was damn difficult to keep his mind from running off with the implications of the scenarios he was analyzing in his head. "Yes. Byer is in play. John, I want you all in CIA custody, now. I'm going to have Pam send teams, get secure and stay the hell away from Turso. We'll go after Nicky." He redialed Landy as Aaron turned around on the emergency bypass and floored it.

"Pam, Byer is after Nicky. Interrogate Anderssen, find out how many updated Outcome assets they're running. And send teams to the Pentagon, we need protection for John Parsons and his family until Turso is in custody."

Pam nodded to Tom Cronin, turned back to the speaker phone. "And you need back up for you two. You're not working alone—we're on the same team. Officially." Marty Marshall nodded at Pam. Jason and Aaron exchanged a glance.

"No more 'Rebel Without a Cause'?" Aaron said, bypassing traffic on the shoulder of the freeway. "I'm going to have to buy myself a Harley now."

"And Jason—email in those files. Neither of you have the best track record for keeping equipment intact. Good luck."

"She's got a point," Aaron said.

"I know," Jason was already attaching the audio files, clicked Send; opened another app on his phone.

-CIA Headquarters, Langley, Virginia-

Martin Marshall strode into Ezra Kramer's office, flanked by field officers.

"I need to see Kramer, now."

"He's occupied at the moment…" his secretary began, but Marty brushed past her. Ezra was sitting at his desk, his fingers steepled together in front of his mouth.

"About time you got here. Let's hear it then."

Elsewhere in the building, Tom Cronin took great satisfaction in the necessity of taking down Noah Vosen, who had started to worm his way out of the room when he saw Pam coming. Dita Anderssen slipped out in the confusion, almost made it to the door when Wills stopped her with a hand on her arm. "Not so fast," he said, Tom Cronin close behind.

-Pentagon Police substation-

Nicky was alone in an interrogation room. The officers had been firm but polite, the door was locked. She just had to wait for the principal mover to show up, or for Jason to get here. She didn't allow herself to think about David, or what would happen if Jason didn't get there. Life had slowed down to a minute at a time.

She heard a murmur of conversation, then the door opened.

"Good afternoon, Ms. Parsons, if you would please come with me?" Nicky stared into the face of Barbie, who pulled her none too gently from the chair.

She tried to meet the eyes of the police officers but none were paying attention, too busy shuffling papers. Once they cleared the door Barbie shifted her grip slightly, twisting her injured arm forward just enough to cause pain.

"Where are you taking me?" Nicky asked, assessing her options for escape.

Her reply was an increase in the number of degrees at which Barbie was holding her arm, magnifying the burning pain in her shoulder. "Don't ask questions," Barbie replied coldly, taking her down the stairs and out of the building. Several unmarked cars swerved into view. Barbie rapidly changed direction, hustling Nicky on foot toward Arlington, sending a one-handed text on her phone.

-George Washington Parkway-

"Where is she?"

"Her phone is still at the Pentagon, that doesn't mean it's her. It has to be Byer."

"Where would he take her?"

"I don't know. That's why we need to get there ASAP."

"We've got another new friend," Aaron said, spotting a large, swarthy man on a motorcycle zipping aggressively through traffic.

"Another one? What, has black ops training become a damn Peeps factory?" Jason asked, glancing at the sideview mirror, chambering a round.

"When you're hiring them out like Amsterdam's finest, you want a steady supply," Aaron replied, downshifting and darting between two semis, skillfully resisting the pull of the downdraft on the steering.

"Just keep going," Jason said, turning and firing as Aaron popped out from between the semis and the motorcycle swerved into view.

-Restricted Parking, Pentagon-

Meredith had buckled David into his booster seat, kept reassuring him that everything would be fine with his mom, they would see her again very soon. He had asked about Jason, and they had promised that he would call as soon as he was done with work. David had lapsed into an anxious silence, and Meredith was working hard to stop herself from picking up the fidgets she'd used for so long that they were almost habitual. John was on the phone nonstop, speaking to Marty Marshall, Pam Landy, and the Pentagon police.

"She's been moved," he said, reversing the car out of the space. Meredith met John's eyes, both full of emotion.

"I'm sure Jason will take care of it. We have to keep David safe." John said, driving out onto the 110 and meeting Meredith's eyes, squeezing her hand. He didn't see the silver car that slammed into them, driving the car into the concrete median. The other drivers on the road were starting to stop, seeking to offer assistance. Eric Byer calmly got out of the remnants of his car, unbuckled the boy from the backseat, and took off through the trees before the first good Samaritans could get to the car, Meredith and John Parsons buried in the airbags.

-George Washington Parkway, near the Theodore Roosevelt Memorial Bridge-

"I'm going to bail," Jason said, "Get me near the bridge."

Aaron nodded. His phone rang in his ear. "Marta, now is not a good time," he cornered hard, nearly sending the asset careening into another car, the motorcycle listing dangerously.

"Aaron! I just called Nicky, her phone, and I heard David—someone has him. He was talking about white gravestones."

"Thank you angel," he clicked off and braked, spinning the car 275 degrees, right by the footbridge. Bourne bailed, rolled, bullets spraying behind him as he came up firing at the asset who was coming full-tilt, aiming right for him as Aaron simultaneously fired from the car. He dropped hard, the motorcycle crashing to the pavement and sliding to a stop.

Jason stood up, the road rash screaming at him from his back as Aaron leapt out from the car and made sure the guy was dead. "Jason, it's David—Arlington National." Jason took off running, feeding a new clip as he ran.


	17. Chapter 17

*Look for the finale by Monday-BUSY family weekend! Please review! Thanks!*

-Women in Military Service for America Memorial-

Barbie was walking faster now, and Nicky was still without options. She heard a commotion off in the distance, and Barbie heard it too. It was now or never. Nicky twisted her arm free of the sling, horribly grateful to her mother for insisting on the 'fashionable' scarves instead of the utilitarian and Velcro'ed hospital special. She ignored the burst of flames in her shoulder and shoved Barbie into the reflecting pool with her bad arm after feinting Barbie's attempt to grab her again, just like Jason had taught her. She sprinted up the stairs and behind the memorial, Barbie's first shot piercing her good arm as she vanished around the wall. _Keep going, keep going_, Nicky screamed to herself, pushing faster than she'd ever run in her life to the marginal cover provided by the rows of headstones and scattered trees.

Jason heard the shots, ran faster in that direction. He saw Barbie, clearly stalking someone. He fired and missed, but it got her attention and she ducked for cover as well. He ducked down behind a headstone, thinking of her position and where Nicky could be. He crept along between stones, saw a flash of blonde and took another shot, knew he'd gotten her with that one.

Nicky half ran, half scrambled along another row, keeping her head down. She could hear Barbie, she was getting closer; the other shots had to be Jason. Thank God. She darted to another row, trying to stick close to the treeline so she could hear leaves crunching underfoot. Her arm was bleeding sluggishly. There was nothing she could use as a weapon, no stones or even flags. Distance was the only way she would stay alive—the closer Barbie got, the further the distance between the headstones, the easier the shot.

Jason was getting closer to Barbie. She returned fire, just grazing him in the neck, and he bloomed her again on her leg and chipped a headstone with the second shot. The next time, someone wouldn't miss. He was about to go face to face when he heard a second shooter, caught a glimpse of Aaron before he ducked down behind a headstone as Barbie aimed and fired at him instead.

"Christ, Bourne, could you show a little respect for the dead?" Aaron said as he got within speaking distance. Jason was momentarily dizzy, the faces of all those people flashing through his mind. "Let's do this."

Nicky heard the leaves, turned to find Barbie right next to her. Barbie grabbed her and shoved her down, Nicky pushing against the stone as hard as she could with her bad arm so that her head only grazed the marble instead of hitting it full force as she hit the ground unconscious. Jason and Aaron both came at Barbie from opposite diagonals. She whirled, blocking her body with another headstone and aiming for Aaron. Aaron and Jason both took the shot, and one of them got the gun, the other her hand. She didn't react, just turned and ran zig-zag through the headstones and into the trees, even with another two pinks from their shots.

"I'll get her. After all, I am Ken." Aaron said, then took off running after her.

Jason crouched down beside Nicky, saw the blood pooling behind her head. The flashbacks were coming fast and hard, the picture of Neski's wife blurring into the image of Nicky. Nicky, dancing in a nightclub in Paris. The light in her eyes when he came back from Syria. He looked at the headstone, the name and cross dancing in his brain. Getting his first medal in the Army. He shook his head, automatically checked Nicky's pulse. Strong. Still alive. A morning in Paris, in her bed, Regina Spektor on the radio. He could hear Marie…"Because, eventually, you'll remember something good." Nicky telling him, "No need to say goodbye," at the Pentagon. The memories nearly blinded him. Seeing David for the first time. _David_. He pulled out his phone, got the location; started running.

Aaron followed his quarry into the treeline. She was fast, desperate. She darted around the Weeks memorial wall, Aaron behind and expecting her attack, but she had climbed, jumped down and knocked his gun out of his hand, while he got a good punch in and she broke off, running again toward JFK's gravesite. He was right behind, evading the knife she threw and chasing her into the uneven courtyard before the grave. She pulled another knife and went for his chest, clearly realizing it was going to end very soon, there would be no more running. He pulled back and twisted, ensuring she only dealt him a shallow cut, then parried her next thrust with his forearm. She disengaged and studied, looking for a weakness. Aaron moved back, sliding under the chains around JFK's gravesite and unhooking one end to send it snapping at her as she lunged. She dodged, pulled another knife and tossed it with her bad hand, Aaron's quick reaction with the chain deflecting it and giving him a knife. She was very good, slashing and feinting in almost a blur. She wasn't letting Aaron back to unhook the other end of the chain, was driving him toward the grave. He had to almost fall flat backward to miss a deadly thrust, felt his skin and shirt burning from the flame. He deliberately planted his arm, letting himself burn further to get three points of contact, throwing the knife right for her carotid artery. He flipped to the side as she fell forward into the flame, rolled himself on the ground to put out the fire on his back, wincing from the shrieking flesh. That was going to be very painful when it was cleaned.

He ran up the steps, looking for Bourne; spotted three figures on the steps at Arlington House. One of them was a child.


	18. Chapter 18

Jason's mind was tumbling over as he ran, feeling like he was suffering from mental whiplash. His back ached but he wasn't bleeding much. Oddly the breeze felt good, a terrible instant of normal interspersed with the sight of David being hustled along by Eric Byer. Byer was making for the rear of the house, hitting the wide front veranda. Byer spotted him and fired, Jason ducked behind the L'Enfant gravesite. Byer kept going; probably aiming for a car at the rear of the building. David yelled, "Dad!" and Jason could hear the tumblers clicking, see Byer analyzing the situation and make the call. He stopped, turned around, and put the gun to David's head.

"Drop your weapon!" Byer called, facing Jason, who stopped on a dime at the bottom of the stairs. Byer's face was cold, David's was terrified. Jason saw again the face of Wombosi's child, the look in her eyes when she saw his gun. He held his breath and put the gun down, never taking his eyes off David.

"It's going to be okay, David," Jason said, then met Byer's eyes.

"It is, Bourne? You think you're going to walk away from this?" Byer turned the gun and fired, the bullet screaming through above his right knee and taking him down to his other knee. Byer's face was cold and hard, his eyes mocking.

"Where are you going to run? The whole agency will be after you, including all your special friends from Detrick. Kill me, and there will be more," Jason retorted, doing his best to keep Byer's attention on him and away from David, stalling for precious seconds. David had wet his pants when Byer shot him, and he was crying now, his eyes fixed on Jason.

Byer shot him again, this time between his fifth and sixth ribs. "You could learn something here Bourne. Never work alone. You brought in Cross, I'll give you that—but you have nothing now. I have more people, more time, more alibis. You just don't understand—we make you to work alone, so we can **break you**, alone." Byer turned the gun toward David, the seconds slowing to increments too small to measure. The pain in his chest was intense, the bloom spreading. Jason dimly heard Aaron yelling from the distance, knew he was not close enough; felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He locked eyes with Byer and said, "I'm not alone," heard the telltale whine as a sniper's bullet went clean through Byer's forehead. Byer's left hand let go of David, the gun in his right firing in the air toward Arlington; his body crumpling to the ground. David ran down the steps, and into Jason, who hugged him with his good arm, feeling his heartbeat start to become erratic. In his ear he heard, "Bourne, долг не будет уплачен."

"Thank you," he whispered, the world starting to spin. He couldn't hear the sirens or the people approaching, his sense of touch was getting iffy. He dimly heard David, "Dad I peed in my pants…Dad, Dad!" as he cried into him. Kirill's face swam into view as he staunched the flow of blood, telling him, "You should be dead from this, what the hell have they done to you in this agency…help!" He heard Aaron asking Kirill, "Where the hell did you come from?" as he was lowered to the ground, Kirill's cryptic response—"Facebook," then Jason passed out in a world of white.

-Several months later, CIA Headquarters, Langley, Virginia-

He strode quickly down the hallway, his movements economical and unobtrusive. Once he got to the office, he got into the safe and paged through the file, then put it back and quickly retreated through the office door. He checked his watch, passed through another set of key carded doors and entered the operations room, his arrival almost unnoticed. He turned to greet the one person who'd noticed his entrance.

"Cross."

"Bourne."

Their name badges said otherwise—David Webb and Kenneth Kitsom, but they couldn't seem to break the habit of using their field names. Nicky and Marta thought they didn't want to. Directors, Field Operations. They both turned to the large screens, the details of Mark Turso's life on the run for the past six months spread out across the room. "So, what are we into?" Jason asked, announcing his arrival to the room full of his team, who had been working the back end while Aaron's tracked Turso. He tucked the earpiece in his left ear, the titanium wedding ring glinting slightly in the backglow from the screens. Kirill's voice piped in through his ear—they were about to unmask the FSB contact in Russia, finally tying it off for good. He met Aaron's eyes, nodded.

"Time to toast these Pop-Tarts people!" The team looked a bit stunned—they were still not used to Aaron's quips. Jason said, "Keep the video!" and they snapped back to attention, tracking Turso and feeding the AV through five different streams.

Jason raised an eyebrow at Aaron. "Pop-Tarts? Really?"

Aaron shrugged. "It's the only thing she wants to eat. I'm telling you, if I survive the pregnancy it will be a miracle."

Jason smiled. "No man, we've used up our quota. We're running on good old-fashioned rebellion now."

"Damn straight."

Final Notes:

If this were a movie, I'd say the end credits should include the Facebook posts. Never underestimate the power of seemingly trivial social media and location tagging. And it gives a nice bracket to Kirill, I never thought he died in the car accident. Would love your final thoughts, and hey, Matt Damon & crew, if you're out there—I've been a fan since Good Will Hunting, would love to see Bourne 5 with Jeremy on board!

On a personal note, thank you to all who reviewed for the overwhelmingly positive comments and encouragement. I teach, and my students are sometimes confronting difficult circumstances, and I always say they need encouragement to keep going. Thank you all for providing that for me. This is my first story and I've had a lot of fun writing it. Some bits are rough, I had a couple of plot twists that I left out due to self-editing, yada yada. If you enjoyed it, I'm glad. Thanks.


	19. Chapter 19

Facebook (scrolling backward through status updates):

Paul-Henri Saens is now _married_.

Piotr Levkova: Congratulations. You are braver man than I.

Kit Carson: Way to put pressure on the rest of us, stud.

Paul-Henri Saens: Trying to get used to going in the front door at this new job.

Kit Carson: Heard your boss is a real piece of work.

Paul-Henri Saens: She's not so bad.

Kit Carson: She's got no sense of humor. I cracked a joke during a meeting and she looked at me like I'd grown another head.

Paul-Henri Saens: It's called "tact". Get some.

Kit Carson: Oh, like you don't think Noah and his "ark" are finding a port there… He was in a grey shirt! I couldn't resist.

Paul-Henri Saens: That's beside the point. He's a slimy dick; she hates his guts.

Kit Carson: My point exactly.

Paul-Henri Saens: My doctor has the worst bedside manner ever. I'd get better service from a vet trying to euthanize me.

Piotr Levkova: You are not that easy to kill.

Kit Carson: Try some charm. I never have a problem with my doc. She thinks I'm cute.

Piotr Levkova: Besides, I thought you just grow a new piece now, like starfish.

Paul-Henri Saens: There's nothing wrong with my piece, perv.

Paul-Henri Saens and Kit Carson are now friends.

Piotr Levkova just checked in at _Arlington House, The Robert E. Lee Memorial_.

Paul-Henri Saens just checked in at _Arlington House, The Robert E. Lee Memorial_.

Paul-Henri Saens just checked in at _Women in Military Service for America Memorial_.

Paul-Henri Saens just checked in at _Arlington National Cemetery_.

Paul-Henri Saens: Bad. _Near Arlington National Cemetery_.

Piotr Levkova: Almost there. _Near Fort Myer, Virginia._

Paul-Henri Saens: Why can't people do their fucking job?

Piotr Levkova: Lazy, greedy, incompetent, corrupt, stupid…and that's just one co-worker!

Paul-Henri Saens: Really bad day in work. Work accident, co-worker injured. Could use a friend.

Piotr Levkova: Wish I could be there, buddy.

Paul-Henri Saens: Me too.

Paul-Henri Saens: Yay! New phone!

Piotr Levkova: Need all the bells and whistles, eh?

Paul-Henri Saens: You should get one too. Very useful.

Piotr Levkova: I'll think about it.

Paul-Henri Saens: Just got the surprise of a lifetime. Damn. _Near Zurich, Switzerland._

Piotr Levkova: Do tell.

Paul-Henri Saens: Let's just say my travel plans got a lot more complicated.

Piotr Levkova: The ex?

Paul-Henri Saens: Yep.

Piotr Levkova: Good or bad?

Paul-Henri Saens: Good. Very, very good…trying to wrap my head around it.

Piotr Levkova: Casanova.

Paul-Henri Saens: Actually, more like Zeus and Semele.

Piotr Levkova: ¡Scheisse!

Paul-Henri Saens just checked in at _Sheremetyevo Airport, Moscow, Russia_.

Piotr Levkova: Fucking black eye. Puts off the girls.

Paul-Henri Saens: You still owe me.

Piotr Levkova: Ya, I do.

Paul-Henri Saens and Piotr Levkova _are now friends_.


End file.
